


Landscapes

by pyropar



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Canon Compliant, Developing Friendships, Domestic, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, M/M, Minor Noctis Lucis Caelum/Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Strangers to Lovers, Stream of Consciousness, also focuses on the close friendship between the boys because it makes me happy, both individual friendships and their friendship as a whole, brotherhood era, but a lot of detailing their teen years, it's going to be long, listen... i love them so so much
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-18 14:50:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 24,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17582933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyropar/pseuds/pyropar
Summary: There’s a box shared between the two of them, holding everything they’ve been through together—the good, the bad, the old, the new. As their journey to Altissia grows increasingly complicated, Prompto and Ignis reminiscence of those simpler times with their close friends who helped bring them together. Everything from their awkward first meeting, them growing into friends, them growing into something more.And perhaps they create new memories, too.





	1. Prologue

“It’s _so_ hot,” Prompto whined for the hundredth time today, swiping a gloved hand over the glistening sweat on his forehead. 

He had given up on his corner of the tent and was collapsed backwards on the heated haven ground, limbs outstretched, scraped and dusty. Traversing foreign land with no means of currency—paired with the Regalia breaking down and their first real battles with wildlife—left them all more tired than they had ever been in their lives. 

The beaming sun in the clear sky didn’t help. It was near setting, and the angle made it shine right into Prompto’s eyes. He cupped a hand over them to block the too bright light out, turning his head toward his boyfriend.

“Ignis,” he pleaded through the still air, brows high and lips pouty. “Aren’t there supposed to be hotels around here?”

Ignis, leaning on his perfectly assembled meal table, watched him with a clearly amused expression. “The only such establishment is Galdin Quay, and it’s too far to reach before nightfall.” He wasn’t struggling like the rest; he had already finished anchoring his table and their chairs and everything else into the haven ground. “There are trailers at select outposts. Hammerhead has one.”

“Yes. Please.” Prompto squinted at Noctis, sat opposite of him and right in front of the sun, occupied by setting up the tent. He reached an open hand out to him in desperation. “Hey, you’re on my side, right? We should go back—”

His words were cut short by sudden desert wind rushing in, blowing everyone’s hair and clothes wild as they squeezed their eyes shut. The tent flap Prompto had left undone was whipping itself back and forth, trying to fly away with the loose sand.

Gladio, peering through the blustering dust, trudged over to pin the flap down with a metal stake. This was the third time the mess of a tent they’ve been working on for over thirty minutes threatened to blow itself back to Insomnia. 

“We’re camping tonight,” he said, his gruff voice loud over the howling winds, driving the stake into the rock with wind-muffled _clangs_. “Deal with it.” 

The gust disappeared as soon as it came, leaving the air stagnant and even hotter than before. Prompto groaned. It was this, not the wind, that made it unbearable, and the dark Crownsguard fatigues were not helping him. He was downright miserable sprawled on the ground, sweat plastering sand and dust on his skin, hair now completely flat.

“Up,” said Ignis, kneeling next to Prompto. He set a hand out to help him. “Dirtying yourself in protest won’t stop the winds.” Prompto took it, and Ignis brushed off dust from his clothes and hair with care. “There is no choice but this tonight. But don’t fret—as the sun sets, the gusts will die down.”

Prompto helped himself off the ground and onto his feet, stretching, easing his body and the aches in his muscles. He glared at Ignis, who—minus his unkempt hair—seemed completely spared by the wind. “Can’t I at least take my jacket off?”

“Feel free if you’re aiming to make a makeshift kite without a lead,” he smirked.

All this got was a guttural groan from Prompto and a laugh from the prince, who was busy trying to nail the fourth stake into the ground on his own side. “It’ll be fun,” Noctis said, his expression soft. “Just the four of us, away from everything else.”

It was enough for him—and the rest of them—to forget their misfortune for a while. 

Noctis didn’t notice Prompto circling the faltering mass of black waterproof fabric, sneaking up behind him. But he dodged right on time when he tried to elbow him in the head, meeting a face full of grit as he did. Prompto ended up nearly knocking down the tent instead, wobbling on his steps as he tried to steady himself from falling. 

They stared at each other for a moment. All dusty and bewildered; and both of them burst out laughing after watching the other trying to hold it in. 

Gladio glared at them over their uninhabitable tent. “Just—let me do it alone, will you?” He waved them off, patting off sweat. “You two more trouble than you’re worth.”

Prompto stuck his tongue out. He reached out to ruffle Noct’s hair—but was slapped away with a grumble, bringing a chuckle out from him.

“Fine, you win.” Prompto fake pouted, yet the fatigue in his movements and in his voice were gone. “Camping tonight.” He elbowed Noct again, landing a soft hit this time. “Better experience everything we can together before then. It’ll be all different when you’re married, y’know?” 

Noctis, sick of being attacked, pushed himself off the ground. He stretched his arms out above himself to work out the cramps before they hindered him. Having been protected by the tent, the worst of the winds spared him, but his skin was covered with a sheen of sweat like the others.

The sun was still out, but was starting to set in the horizon—they’ve been at it for _so_ long. Noctis simply sighed and hung his head behind, looking at the darkening sky, stars already beginning to emerge. Despite almost everything going wrong today, he was content. Tranquil. Being with his friends was one of the rare things that made him happy. 

And then another wind came rushing in; he shielded himself with his arms and Prompto took cover behind him. It was gone quicker than the first, but brought much more dust with it.

Noctis spluttered, brushing sand out of his hair, ignoring Ignis’s warning and stripping out of his hot, dusty jacket. He tossed it over the arm of his seat. Prompto followed suit, making an arrogant display of the action to Ignis, grinning devilishly as he discarded his own. 

Soon Ignis found three jackets in his arms, one chucked towards him—Gladio took every opportunity to strip, it seemed—and he could only sigh. “This—” he raised their discarded clothing, “—was reckless, but lucky. The winds should be over now.”

Noctis squinted at the sun near the horizon, perhaps looking for an answer to the heavy gusts. 

“Noct,” Ignis called out. “You’ll damage your eyes.” 

He turned away and scratched the back of his neck. “Where’re the winds even coming from? There isn’t even a cloud in the sky.”

“Etesian winds,” was all Ignis said as answer. Like it explained anything. He took note of all of their confused expressions with a subdued shake of his head. “From the ocean, starting up in mid-May. Perfect timing for a road trip.”

Noctis snorted at all this, amused. “Why aren’t you doing anything, by the way?”

“Divided the workload between the four of us—you insisted, remember?” He was tasked with setting up everything else. The chairs, the chef’s table, lights; supposedly to be done together with Prompto, but the tent proved more trouble than it presented and needed more than two people to hold it down. He folded their clothing and set it inside the now half finished tent. “I’ve done my part and more.”

“There’s no turning him.” Even Gladio was tiring by now, doubling over to catch his breath as sweat rolled down his bare chest. He did not show it, but Ignis could tell he was disappointed to be struggling this much on something he was supposed to be good at. “Otherwise,” Gladio paused to let out a cough, patting his chest. “He would’ve helped pushed the Regalia.”

Ignis nearly opened his mouth to protest that they needed someone to hold down the pedal and direct the steering wheel, but refrained from opening that can of worms—his friends each had the peculiar ability of making the blame go around in circles for hours, sometimes days. He instead busied himself with fixing up refreshments, grabbing two stainless steel mugs.

Noctis yawned, making his way to his chair by the unlit campfire, near passing out once he climbed into it. “Camping is much harder than I thought.”

“Mood.” Prompto followed his lead, heaving a big breath out while he slinked into his own seat.

Ignis soon came around to bring them their iced drinks. He heard them clink their mugs together as he pulled Gladio a bottle from the cooler, the tips of his gloves getting wet.

He set it down beside him and took a look at the coming progress. The tent was now, actually, starting to look like one. “You always work better without them two,” Ignis noted.

“Yeah, well,” Gladio took a swig, exhaling with bliss at the coolness. “It’s nearly done,” he said, getting up and trudging towards the last corner. “Just need a little more time.” 

Ignis settled back center, lighting the fire to combat the darkness closing in, igniting flames from a single press of his hand. Orange light blanketed the haven, reflecting on their gleaning skin and the fabric of the tent. 

He found himself slipping off his own jacket, setting it on top of the others discarded before he pushed his sleeves up and shed his gloves. For sanitation. He headed back to the meal table and gave a nod to Noctis. “I’ll be starting dinner.”

Noctis’s head perked up. “What’s it tonight?”

“We don’t have many ingredients, so it’s something simple. Eggs on toast.”

It was disappointing, he knew. Weariness heavily weighed down on all of them, even on him. No one spoke, letting the crackle of flames and the occasional rustle of fabric from Gladio be the only sounds. The setting sun bathed them all in a warm, safe glow, intensified by the firelight. 

The silence between them grew long and soon, it relaxed them, dissolving all the tension they had from the stress today. The air was now cooling and the wind was slowing to a gentle breeze as the sun started to dip into the horizon.

It was set midway when Prompto got up, restless as he ever was, placing his mug on Ignis’s table. He grabbed a piece of bread and stuffed it into his mouth before Ignis could protest—and when he turned, he was only met with the lens of Prompto’s camera.

Noctis tilted his head, near nodding off. Tiredness was hurting him the most. His eyes almost fell closed—but Gladio hammering another stake in the ground made them jerk back open. 

Years of being by the prince’s side meant Ignis knew every mannerism, even without seeing them. Noct’s slow, levelled breathing was a tell-tale sign of forthcoming sleep, as Ignis had learned to know. “Noct, eat first before resting,” he said, setting a pan on the small burner Gladio had brought for him. “Get through this. Tomorrow we’ll find someplace better—”

“Noct!” Prompto cut him off, grabbing the prince’s and jostling his shoulders. “Did we—did we leave all the pillows in the Regalia?”

“Get off,” Noctis pushed him away, turning his face to the back of his chair. But even then—he could feel Prompto’s eyes boring into the back of his neck. “Ugh. No. Gladio made me put everything in the Armiger.”

“Everything?”

“Everything,” he repeated, closing his eyes again—and then they went wide, realising what Prompto’s insistence probably meant. “Wait—did you bring something weird?”

He only scratched the back of his neck. Noctis felt the overwhelming urge to tackle him.

But before he could, a loud cry of victory sounded out, and suddenly Gladio was around. He patted Noctis on the head—and got pushed off—before handing Ignis his empty bottle. The tent was finally finished; they were aware, because he was very loudly exclaiming to the entire desert that it was.

Noctis grimaced at him, very clearly disturbed from his sleep. Gladio simply grinned in return. “Give me an extra serving for the work, will you?” he nudged Ignis’s arm, lowering his voice. “You don’t have to tell the others.”

This vitalized Noctis; suddenly, he’s stood up, eyes wide and bright in the campfire. “That’s unfair. Give me one too.”

Prompto raised his arms, putting himself between them and joining them in the chorus. “Hey, why not two for all of us?”

Ignis shook his head at all of them, turning away to focus. “Unless you all don’t want breakfast in the morning, you’re getting one serving each.”

Noctis fell back into his chair, defeated, looking up to the sky once again. It was now fully dark; the sun was hidden under the horizon, the only hint of it a patch of light blue close to it. Stars littered the clear night sky, the dimmest drowned out by the campfire, but it was more than Noctis had ever seen in the city. More stars than he’d seen in his entire life.

At first, the announcement of his betrothal had scared him. Of course it would’ve. His future, his fate, was suddenly set in stone—all at the prime age of twenty. But as the days went by, writing out his fears and having her quell them and vice versa, he realised that there couldn’t be anyone else.

The moon was small, a waning crescent, but he could see it clearly. It always reminded him of her, of that necklace he stuffed into the notebook how many years before. Perhaps it being here, like this tonight, was a sign.

They were so close. Altissia could be only a day away.

He lowered his head, staring at the ice in his empty mug. But—in the corner of his eye—he turned to find Prompto leaning on his gloved palm, grinning at him. “What?” Noct asked.

“Just wondering when I’m gonna get my pillows.”

Prompto recklessly tilted all their bedding into the open tent once Noctis stuffed it into his arms, caring not of the pillows at all. After quick glance over it, he turned back to Noct. “Is this everything?”

Gods—did he really bring something unconventional to a wedding? “There’s a bunch of other small stuff,” he shrugged. “Clothes, books, cans of Ebony, some other stuff I don’t know.”

“Give me the other stuff.”

With a flash of light, he grabbed the rest of it, trinkets jingling as he dropped everything in his camping chair. Screwdrivers, a rubix cube, spare phone chargers still in their packaging. “What are you looking for?” asked Noctis.

“This.” Prompto brushed everything off the top of a small square box, slightly larger than a shoebox, black and covered in velvet. He propped it on his seat, dusting the top off with care.

“What’s that, Prom?” Noctis tilted his head, intrigued. He had emptied his chair with a wave and another flash of light and was sitting back down, elbows on his knees, his chin rested on an open palm.

“Something special.”

One glance at the black chest in Prompto’s chair brought a warm smile to Ignis’s lips, and all their truffles today laid forgotten. “You brought it?” he asked.

“I couldn’t just leave it there, y’know?” said Prompto, unexpectedly bashful. “It’s like a part of both of us.”

Gladio rested onto his his own chair, skin heated from his recent workout. He crossed his arms and intently watched the exchange between them. Both of them—despite it already being months since they first got together, after _years_ of pining for the other—were still apprehensive about sharing anything about it, even though he and Noct constantly reassured them that it did not change things at all. They were simply naturally reserved, and Noctis and Gladio soon learnt to accepted that; but it didn’t stop them from being interested whenever a rare moment like this happened.

They were simply gazing at each other in silence, the pink on their cheeks highlighted by the campfire. Gladio couldn’t help but snicker at the pair of them, ever so shy, and nodded to the box when they glanced back. “You two have a kid together and you never told us?”

It broke them apart. “Hey!” Prompto aimed a playful glare at him, making Noctis laugh. Ignis, too, exhaled sharply before shaking his head and turning his attention back to the pan.

“It’s just this,” Prompto said once everyone calmed, lifting the box into his arms again so he can sit down. “A box for all our memories together, since it’s kinda our thing.” He looked at it fondly, resting it on his lap; no doubt remembering some of the aforementioned moments. “I gave it to him on his birthday this year.” 

“He was tiring of us giving a certain photo back and forth,” added Ignis, tipping an egg onto a plate. “He nearly lost it more than once, too. His solution was this, and kept it in my care, so no responsibility would fall on him. What I wasn’t aware of was him breaking into my apartment and taking it with us.” 

“Tease,” Prompto pouted at him, holding the box close. “But it’s sort of true. And giving it to you worked, see? Still have it.” He pressed his cheek on it, petting it. “I can’t believe you nearly left it in Insomnia. It’s coming with us everywhere now.”

Noctis watched him treat it like it was a puppy, entertained. “Are you going to show us what’s in it?”

“After dinner,” Ignis responded for him, handing Noctis his plate. Noct found two servings, and looked up for an answer, but Ignis only slightly smiled at him. “Might’ve found a way to make it work, since you all… _do_ deserve it.”

Prompto set the box aside as Ignis served the rest of them before picking up his own plate, joining them in his own seat around the campfire, a newly refilled mug in his other hand.

It was Prompto who pulled his phone out first, challenging everyone mid-side dinner. Noctis and Gladio joined him immediately; Ignis, trying to hold off spending his phone battery on something non-essential, soon succumbed to their chants of wanting him to fill up the fourth slot in the room.

Halfway into their third match, he realised that they did the exact same thing the night before, near midnight in Noct’s apartment. Prompto ignored all of Ignis’s protests and muffled his face with a pillow whenever he mentioned the treaty and that their departure was tomorrow.

No matter what happened and wherever they were, his friends were always the same. It brought a smile to his face as he flicked his finger, his character running alongside theirs.

They had to stop on the seventh match. Gladio had several rounds of misfortune and Prompto’s teasing nearly made him throw his phone over the desert. Ignis had shut his own phone off and tucked it into his breast pocket, saying sternly it was now over, much to everyone’s dismay. 

But they soon forgot the commotion as they finished up their meals, and Gladio calmed himself by listening to the fire. “This is the life,” he gave a long exhale. His eyes were lidded and his shoulders were low, completely relaxed in his element, warmed by Ignis’s meal. “Told you bringing it would be worth it,” he nodded to the meal table.

“It _is_ a new experience,” Ignis said, setting his empty plate atop it. He turned and looked over the others. Noct, too, was lethargic, nearly asleep again.

And next to the prince Prompto sat, fully alert. He met Ignis’s eyes and gave him a suave wink, bringing evident warmth to his cheeks, deep enough that Ignis had to glance away. Prompto couldn’t help but grin; despite the numerous times this year he’s made him blush, it was still a sight he beheld close to his heart.

He picked up their box, standing up and passing it to Ignis. “Here, you show them,” Prompto said, setting it onto his lap. 

Again, they stared at each other for several beats—and now, there was no one fully awake to interrupt. Prompto pushed the hesitation he felt aside as he cupped Ignis’s cheek, tilting his chin upwards with care. He leant forward, pressing a quick, soft kiss on Ignis’s mouth; the first they shared today, as time was harsh on them. It flushed them both.

Prompto could not leave it at one. He kissed him again, longer and deeper this time, both their lips warm.

They had to force themselves to pull away after a minute, remembering where they were. A laugh bubbled from Prompto’s lips, exhilarated from the display; this was the one of furthest they had went in front of their friends, even if they weren’t aware. Prompto felt the need to kiss him once more—

Gladio, who was awake the entire time, gave a fake cough to bring them back to reality and broke Prompto’s trance. He quickly whipped around, an evident grin stretched wide across his burning cheeks. “Okay, okay, we’re done!” he said and raised his hands in mock defeat, heading towards to his chair walking backwards.

To Ignis’s surprise, he managed to make it without once tripping over.

“Hey,” Prompto slapped Noct on the arm, jolting him awake. “Up. Come on. You were the one who wanted to see inside!”

Noct groaned as he stirred, rubbing his eyes, trying to push Prompto away as sleep took him again. It only made Prompto lean over to shake him by the shoulders. He tried to ignore it, but the terror only intensified when he resisted. 

There was no choice. Soon he sat himself up, chin in his hands again and elbows resting on his knees. “Where’s the thing?” he asked, stifling a yawn. “The box?”

“Iggy’s gonna open it,” said Prompto, resting onto his seat. He was a little bit nervous to be laying everything bare in front of them; but he would choose no one else in Eos for it. They were his friends, he tried to reassure himself, and they wouldn’t judge him for it, right?

“So all responsibility falls on me again, hmm?” jested Ignis, smirking at him. Seeing his smile and his face still flushed was enough to subdue most of Prompto’s fear. 

Most. Prompto let out a strained laugh and didn’t reply. He looked down to the closed fist on his shaking knee. Maybe he was _more_ than a little bit nervous about this.

Ignis could tell he was from the subtleties in his actions, from the way he wouldn’t meet his eyes, from the twitch in his brow. “Are you sure?” he asked. He knew it was always more personal for Prompto than it would ever be for himself.

He didn’t lift his head, staring at the strained leather of his glove, stark against the dark coeurl pattern of his pants. “I am.”

So Ignis waited no more. He undid the padlock and raised the cover with care, setting it underneath the box as their friends peered in.

It was lined with black felt and nearly full, filled with a mixture of items. Mostly printed pictures that were taken by Prompto, but also folded up letters they’ve exchanged. There were trinkets and coins, café receipts and movie tickets, every small item that held a lot of worth to one or both of them—it was all collected there.

How it had started, Ignis could remember clear like day. Prompto had noticed the lack of pictures at his place and loudly vowed to change it. A week later, when Prompto himself was supposed to be receiving gifts, he handed Ignis a shoddily wrapped plastic frame of a photo he had taken when visiting.

“Here,” he had said as he handed over the present, and Ignis didn’t catch it then—but he was a hint more bashful than usual during the entire exchange. “Told you I’d make it the first framed picture at your place.”

The fact that it was a gift from Prompto helped Ignis quell his embarrassment being the subject of it. He had set it on his nightstand and kept it there until departure, non-matching frame and all.

“Can I look at this closer?” asked Gladio, pointing at a certain picture. Ignis gave a deft nod and pulled it out with slow care. Gladio took it carefully, first turning it around to see their names they each had signed on the back of it, remembering the awkward night they spent together. 

“Ah,” he said, a smile widening to his cheeks. “I knew it was this.”

“What’s that?” Noctis leaned over, squinting to see it in the dim firelight.

It was a picture of the four of them on New Year’s Eve, all dressed up, the bright expressions on their faces lit up by the fireworks set around them. 

Noctis’s mouth was scrunched up in what he said time and time again was a smile, with Gladio’s arm wrapped tight around his shoulder. Ignis was beside them, dangling an empty wine glass in his left hand, eyes wide and brightened by all shades of colour. But—what made this moment memorable for all of them was Prompto. He was grinning wide, blurred next to Ignis, having dashed into the frame before his camera’s timer ran out. 

Glass was shattered on Ignis’s shoulder, and red wine was mid-splash onto their suits; their full smiles were so out of place next to the unfolding disaster. The picture was taken moments after Prompto had managed to run into them, but before everyone realised what had happened.

Even if it took Ignis days to fully wash the stain out of Noctis’s raiments, accompanied with a long talk of vigilance during public events they all had to sit through, it was an experience with friends each wouldn’t trade for the world. 

The memories of that night and the eventful weeklong aftermath came very vividly to them. The tips of Noct’s lips rose, and a big laugh bubbled from Gladio, their eyes crinkled near the corners. 

Prompto peeked over their shoulders and couldn’t help but crack a smile, too. “That’s one of my faves,” he said, already starting to calm from seeing how his friends were enjoying themselves. “I can make you two copies when we get back to Insomnia, if you want.” 

“Yes, that’d be amazing,” Gladio managed, a wheeze in his breath from the laughter. “Thought when you said a box you both shared it would be something else. Y’know. More personal.”

“What?” Prompto asked, but quickly after, the realisation came; his face turned as it clicked, and Gladio just chuckled again, ignoring the flurry of hits Prompto was now giving his shoulder. “Ugh, you’re always so disgusting!” whined Prompto. “Of course we wouldn’t show stuff like that to you!”

“So, you’re implying you _do_ have a bunch of—”

“Hey, stop it!” Prompto play punched him again, yet he also was falling victim to hysteria. It took all his willpower not to laugh instead as he said, “We wouldn’t have brought that to Noct’s wedding! What kinda friends would we be then, man?”

Ignis overheard them, taking the picture from Gladio’s fingers with a quick, sharp exhale—he, too, was amused. “Quit it,” he said to them, pushing up his glasses that had slipped down his scrunched nose. “It has only been five months.”

Noctis reached in and pulled out another picture with the four of them on it. It was one from years ago, when Ignis was nearing the end of his Crownsguard training.

Gladio held them tight together in a hug, all sweat and tousled hair in his arms, holding a camera stick at an angle high above with two free fingers. Ignis looked bewildered, his thick glasses askew, cheeks squished between Noctis’s elbow and and Prompto’s neck.

Noctis remembered them going out to a café together shortly after for a small celebration, playing games together until the brink of dawn. They were simpler times, times he wished he could return to—especially now that his whole life was going to change.

He looked at it fondly, his face soft. “I’m kinda surprised you guys have a lot of pics of all of us together, Prom.”

“You’re a big part of our lives too,” said Prompto in all honesty, scooting his chair closer to him. “We wouldn’t have met each other if it weren’t for you. Can’t imagine life without the four of us now.” He leant his chin on Noct’s shoulder for a clearer view of the picture. “That’s also a fave of mine,” he said, and tapped on Ignis in the foreground. “Always thought he looked weird with his hair down.”

Ignis raised his eyebrow as he met his eyes and tried to give a stern look, but could not get the smile to leave his lips. “That’s the first I’m hearing of it.” 

It only makes Prompto laugh again, and it brings warmth to Ignis’s heart, seeing him so carefree after his nervousness moments ago.

Noctis carefully placed the photo back where it once was in the box. “It’s really cool,” he said, surveying everything else they had inside, “that you keep everything together like this. Y’know, you should save all the pictures from this trip. Let’s each get an album when we go home.”

“I was already planning on it,” Prompto grinned. And then a thought came to mind—he rummaged through his bag on the ground, pulling out his camera for the hundredth time today. 

He started snapping at everything, trying to get a perfect shot of them in the warm light of the campfire. There was no trace of the lethargy from moments ago, as Noctis and Gladio stood posing, trying to cover each other’s faces with their elbows. Prompto was beaming at every take.

Ignis was still seated, rearranging all the pictures again before placing them back in the box. As he did, his fingers collided with a small cheap digital camera—Prompto’s first. Rough wear was evident on its red aluminum body, glinting in the firelight as he picked it up and turned it around, inspecting it. 

“Specs, come here,” Noctis came over, aimed to pull him up. “We need shots of you too—” he cut himself off as he caught glimpse of what he was holding. “What’s that?”

“A camera.” Ignis replaced it in the box and covered it. It was Prompto’s, part of his story; he didn’t wish to be the one who told it out of turn.

Noctis watched him set the lock back in place. “Prompto’s, right? His first?” he tilted his head, and didn’t wait for affirmation. “I knew it looked familiar,” he said moments after, and it was enough to make Prompto freeze. Gladio saw the smile crumble from his face as his current camera nearly slipped from his grip.

Noctis didn’t know—did he? Would he care? The thoughts swarmed in Prompto’s head as dread pooled in him, running down his throat and into his stomach. He swallowed, wiping cold sweat off his forehead with his gloved hand, turning away from all of their gazes.

The action did not go unnoticed. “Prompto?” Noctis asked, his voice the only sound over the fire. 

It was nerve-wracking enough that Ignis knew about his childhood, but Noctis and Gladio? They would think differently of him. “It’s nothing,” Prompto said, staring at the flames. “Just some old junk.”

“But if it’s in there, it’s important to you, right?”

Of course Prompto wanted to tell him. Tell him everything. About the years he had struggled with the concept of himself and how their friendship had changed everything for him. He unclenched his balled fist, willing a smile onto his face as he turned towards Noctis. It did not meet his eyes.

“It’s…well,” Prompto managed out. “Yeah, it is.”

He didn’t notice Noctis had moved closer to him until his arm was around his shoulders. “You know you’re my friend, right?” Noctis said, his grip firm, his voice light. “You’re a friend to all of us. No matter what happens.”

Prompto’s tension melted quick at the reassurance; that was enough for him. The taunt muscles in his arms loosened as his fear quelled. He wanted to tell him. And what better time would there be than now, on this road trip, before their entire lives changed?

The next smile was genuine. Prompto clapped his back in return, and his lips widened to a full-blown grin. “Thanks, man,” he breathed.


	2. An Act of Kindness

“Are you certain?” Ignis asked once he settled back down. They were all seated around the campfire, and each had just received a mug of hot chocolate. The night had grew long and the winds were now cold—jackets were now back in the fray, under wrapped fleece blankets.

Prompto held the box in his lap stable with one hand while he rummaged through it with the other. “What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t?” he said, not looking up.

“I suppose that’s a valid argument. But it’s entirely your choice.”

He didn’t reply, entirely focused on searching for his camera—until something caught his eye. “Hey, look!” he said, taking hold of a small wooden stamp and pulling it out. He held it out to Ignis, the worn handle and dried ink small in his palm. “You used to close all your letters with this.”

Ignis squinted at it. “I only _used_ to because someone took it from my desk.” 

Prompto’s face froze mid-smile. His eyes widened, like he was caught in an act; he dropped it back in the box before Ignis could say anything else.

“It’s freezing,” Noctis yawned, curled up in his seat like a cat. His mug of hot chocolate peeped out of his blanket, held by a near limp hand.

“Don’t spill it,” said Ignis. “You’ll catch a cold if you don’t drink it soon.”

He raised it by a tiny bit, the liquid now level. “But it’s _too_ hot to drink.”

“I’ll take it,” Gladio said. Unlike the others, he opted out of wearing his jacket, his exercise having warmed him. He leaned over, and Noctis held his mug outstretched towards him.

Ignis’s nostrils flared. “You will not—”

“Found it!” exclaimed Prompto, catching sight of the dull red glint. The camera was on the bottom, resting on the Crownsguard training picture Noctis had looked at.

His breath caught in his throat as he took hold of it, a tiny seed of doubt nestling in; but he pushed it aside as promptly as it appeared. They were his friends, he told himself. And they always would be.

“Here,” he said, holding it with his chin as he set the box back down, covering it. The camera was cold and small in his palm, having received it as a gift when he was a ten year old child—the last birthday he had where his parents were present at.

The him back then couldn’t have ever thought this was where he’d now end up, ten years later. Being amongst royalty and his retinue, having best friends, having _fell in love_ with a noble—and being loved back. Not only by Ignis, but by all of them.

He held it up to the firelight, tapping on the shutter like he always used to do to ease his nervousness. “So,” he started, clearing his throat. “Yeah, this was my first camera.”

Ignis brought his hot chocolate to his lips, closing his eyes as Prompto spoke of his first meeting with all of them—something he had heard time and time again with heart—recalling the thread that that very camera had weaved into his own dull life.

* * *

Ignis had been resting his eyes on the day Prompto crept to his bookshelf. He lifted the cover of the mementos box, silently placing the camera there, fully believing Ignis was asleep. He was gone as soon as he covered it, walking down the stairs with haste.

Ignis didn’t dare discuss it in concern it was a sensitive issue for him, but during the next morning, as he slid onto his usual seat at the kitchen counter, Prompto himself brought it up.

“I put something new in the box last night,” he had said, setting his spoon down and taking a pause from his breakfast. Ignis remembered, clearly, that it was bouillon, one of Prompto’s favourites. “Well, kind of new.” He wasn’t meeting his eyes, focusing entirely on the steam wafting from Ignis’s newly brewed cup of coffee. “You probably don’t remember, but when I was younger…I met you, just behind school. You were there waiting for Noct.” A slow, deep breath. “I fell over. And even though I said you didn’t have to, you still took your time to clean me up and make sure I was okay….”

There was something left unsaid, weighing down Prompto’s shoulders, saturating the air between them with tension. In the moment, Ignis didn’t push him. He never did. He always let him discuss what he wanted, at the pace he desired. 

He took a sip of coffee, pressing his fingertips on the printed design—the mug was a gift from Prompto. “I remember,” Ignis said softly, and moved his hand over the one Prompto had on the counter, the warmth from his skin mingling with his as he embraced it. “And perhaps…that’s when I first took a liking to you.”

* * *

The sun was shining bright _just_ moments ago—so Ignis could not understand why heavy rain now splattered down the car window he was looking out from. It was the late afternoon on a Tuesday, and he and his uncle were parked outside Noctis’s elementary school, waiting for the prince.

“Perhaps you should go find him,” his uncle said from the driver’s seat. On usual days it would only be him, but today he was accompanied with a brawny glaive sitting in the passenger’s seat. The glaive nodded at him, seconding his uncle.

“No,” Ignis said firmly, not peeling his eyes away from the school entrance. “I don’t want to annoy him anymore than I have to.”

Especially since the council was smothering him more than usual—what was usually simple walks with the two of them now was supervised, even within the indoor garden or the halls of the Citadel. Ignis noticed the heightened security everywhere he went but was never given a true explanation why. 

Officials from other nations visited with increasing frequency; Noctis sat next to his father at meetings, Ignis next to him. He felt the way his hand tightened on his whenever a councilman looked at him for a moment past polite. Every time, Ignis would have to escort him out early.

Noctis was only twelve, now slowly learning the realities of what his life meant to everyone around him. He’d become more withdrawn than ever the past few months, scribbling into his red notebook, sometimes going days without saying a word to Ignis. He never took offence. Giving Noctis everything that he wanted in reason—currently freedom and solitude, even if he could only afford him a moment of it—was something Ignis strained for.

But a few moments after, he caught glimpse of the young prince clad in black, and Ignis slid from his seat, pushing open the car door. The sound of rain loudened, drops falling on his hair. He set up an umbrella and rushed over to Noctis’s side, taking care not to trip over the damp bricks.

There was a crowd of onlookers as they descended the steps—children, their parents, anyone in the vicinity. Most of the adults wore scorns, contempt expressions. But the children, all near Noct’s tender age or below—who knew nothing of the Citadel, how many homes were lost as the wall had to be rescaled before they were born—looked on them in wonder, mouths mid-gasp, their only knowledge of the word _prince_ from fairy-tales or fiction.

Noctis hated both reactions, and Ignis knew that well.

The rain was coming down heavily now. Ignis could feel the splashes against his leather shoes, could see them droop down the bright tulips by the school entrance. He held the car door open for Noctis to slide in, shaking droplets from the closed umbrella before shutting the door, putting a wall between the rained on onlookers and them. 

Ignis leant over to fasten Noctis’s seatbelt as the car started moving, headed to the Citadel. The prince was preoccupied by resting his chin on his hand, staring at the dreary city. He didn’t pay mind to him or his uncle or the glaive in front.

The glaive nodded at Ignis, allowing him to prompt conversation. Noctis’s silence was worrying everyone in the Citadel.

“Is something wrong?” asked Ignis, as he fastened himself in.

Noctis glanced over once and said not a word.

Ignis took his best guess on what was bothering him, brushing out stray water droplets from his slumped hair. “Don’t mind them,” he said. “I was told it gets better with time, once the amazement wears off.”

Noctis shook his head. “I’ve been here for a month and they still act the same.” 

“Well…,” Ignis started saying, but found himself at a loss for words. Seven years into his intensive training, yet the thing he never had progress on was comforting, consoling him. Nothing could prepare him for the terrors Noctis had faced and will face. He bit his lip, swallowing the doubt. “There must be someone different out there,” he managed.

The prince went back to staring out the window, forfeiting to reply. Ignis gave out a tiny sigh. He really needed to work on emotional support.

But his thoughts scattered as Noctis sat up straight, pointing at the window, looking at Ignis with a wide smile plastered on his face—a true one. “There!” Noct had exclaimed, and Ignis was tall enough to lean over to see what he was motioning at. He was pointing at a boy, alone and Noct’s age, heavy-set with hair like sunlight. It was covered by an umbrella—coloured bleak and grey, hidden like the actual sun behind the sky.

“I met him,” Noctis said, his face bright. “And he was different.”

* * *

Two years later, Ignis was fifteen.

Again, he was waiting for Noct outside his school. Over the years it was commonplace to find him there, especially on the days or eves of important outings, making sure Noctis wouldn’t be late. Today was important—for Noctis in particular, he knew—because his father would be free for dinner for the first time in the year.

Ignis was there early, ten minutes before the bell. Summer was creeping up too fast; he was sweltering in his clothes—a black sweater vest with a long-sleeved shirt tucked underneath it. He looked fine outside, not a tiny bit uncomfortable; manners instilled deep in him taught him that uncomfort came after decency.

After years of picking him up, he and Noct found that the front approach seldom worked. If Ignis waited for him behind school, there would be less people watching them, less people crowding in front of Noct, less people making him late out of spite.

So Ignis waited, at the edge of the parking lot and a small forested area gated off, sitting on a bench under a tree’s shade. It was Spring, mid-May; above him pink petals moved in the breeze, the sound of branches creaking and birds singing filling his ears.

He pulled out his phone to check the time. Nine minutes.

At eight minutes, he sent a text—hopefully Noct had his phone on silent—that he was waiting outside. Clouds drifted across the sky, blocking out the sun’s rays; another draft blew, cooling him down. He tapped his finger on his knee.

At six minutes, he stood up, determined to be there to guide Noct in case something went not according to plan. This day was special, after all. The heels of his shoes crunched on the asphalt as he walked, no other soul in sight—

Something—someone—collided with his back, his steps skidding and his glasses knocking onto the ground. He was able to steady himself before getting a face full of dirt and fallen blossoms by pressing his knee and palm against the ground.

The perpetrator wasn’t so lucky. 

Beside him, they smacked face down on the concrete, their own glasses gone flying. Something else in their hand fell and skidded in front of Ignis.

The person immediately helped themselves up, and Ignis immediately recognised him.

It was boy that brought a lasting smile to Noctis’s face. After their first meeting, Noct cared no more of the onlookers, of the disapproval and false wonder. He would catch a glimpse of the boy and speak to Ignis for hours about him, how he saw him once feeding strays behind the school, how he walked home alone, every single day. 

The golden boy, Noctis had called him.

But he had never spoken to Noctis again since then. Ignis never caught another glimpse of him since Noctis pointed him out in the car. Until now.

“Sorry, sorry! I wasn’t—looking where I was going!” he was saying, his voice light and tilted. He brushed dust off his sleeveless shirt and sweatpants before picking up Ignis’s glasses with care, trying not to smudge the lenses. “Here,” he said, holding the plastic frame out to Ignis.

Ignis could see his features better in the sunlight. His hair was still bright like spun gold, now longer, framing his face neatly. There was a splatter of freckles concentrated over his cheeks, spread all over his skin. He was taller, more shapely than before, but Ignis knew it could only be him.

“You,” was all Ignis managed to say. He didn’t know how to react—with distance, for hurting Noct with his avoidance, or warmth for helping him overcome his own?

“Me?” said the boy, voice soft, his head slanted. Ignis saw his mouth twitch; worried about the reaction.

He couldn’t have been older than Noctis; perhaps he was younger than him. There was no one accompanying him, Ignis realised when he looked around—why wasn’t he in class?

Ignis swallowed and took his glasses from the boy’s palm, slipping them onto his face. Luckily not broken. “I meant—thank you,” he said, deciding a first meeting should be placid. “Are you alone? Where are your parents?”

The boy’s eyes widened, a brilliant light blue, and he looked down to his red palms. “T—they’re home,” he muttered. “I’m on a run.”

Ignis could feel his apprehension coming out like waves—not unlike when Noctis was confronted with reverence—and decided to press it no longer. He broke his gaze and looked to the ground in front of them. “Your glasses,” he said as he handed them to him. 

“Oh, thank you,” he grabbed them and put them on a little too quickly, the frames askew over his freckles. 

“And…,” Ignis stretched to pick up the other thing—the stranger’s camera, he recognised from Noct’s re-telling of their meeting two years ago. He handed it to him. “Is it broken?”

He ran his fingers over the lens and screen, switching it off and on. “I don’t think so,” he said. “Thank you.”

They both rose, Ignis dusting off gravel from his trousers—and he took notice of fresh scrapes on the boy’s elbows and knees. The boy saw his glance and hid his arms against his back, like it would make the wounds disappear.

But Ignis couldn’t ignore it. “You’re hurt,” he said as he lightly took hold of his right shoulder. His skin, still patterned with those freckles, felt overheated from a mix of the sun and adrenaline—

The boy pulled himself back with too much vehemence, tightly wrapping his hand around the sweatband on his right wrist like it kept something important hidden. “I—I’m fine!” he insisted, flushed and breath short. 

He was extremely stubborn, just like Noct. It explained the pull he had towards him. “You are hurt,” Ignis said again, but kept his distance this time. “Please let me help. I’ve trained for this.”

Something the Citadel required of him was to bring around a small first aid kit in his wallet in case of a princely emergency. He pulled it out and took several large bandages from it, holding them out to the boy to show him he was serious. “Sit,” Ignis gestured to the bench he had waited on.

The boy clearly hesitated before sitting, a bit of doubt in his light eyes—but he sat and slowly twisted out his right arm towards Ignis. “Y’know, you don’t have to…” 

“I wish to,” Ignis said, and knelt before him. There were grits of dirt and rock in it; if he hadn’t insisted, it might’ve gotten infected. He could feel the boy tense up beneath him when he lightly held his arm in place by the sweatband on his wrist as he swiped over the scrape, first disinfecting it.

The boy’s eyes crinkled in pain at the burn of disinfectant. Now that they were close, Ignis could tell he was wrong—that they had more violet than blue in them. “It stings,” he breathed, slightly writhing under Ignis’s touch. 

“I know.” Ignis peeled the adhesive off. “It’s nearly done.”

He took his arm back with the same urgency as before once Ignis finished smoothing the bandage over the scrape. He didn’t complain or struggle while Ignis tended the others, watching him work quietly. 

A breeze came through and rustled more pink blossoms apart, whirling down around them. A cloud soon passed under the sun providing them shade.

It was when sunlight hit them again the boy parted his mouth. “What’s it like growing up so close to the prince?”

So he knew. Ignis shouldn’t have been surprised—being the young prince’s advisor, he was subject to just as many tabloid headlines as the royal. But he still knit his eyebrows together, just the slightest, in disappointment. Of course the boy would’ve known.

The question in particular was one he heard often. Social junctions, meetings adjourned, the occasional ball—there would always be an adult who set eyes of pity on the young Scientia. Once he answered, their reaction would always be of the same tone: _“Your childhood robbed and wasted, poor boy!”_ or _“A child shouldn’t have been forced into devotion to a failing royalty.”_

Ignis did not let their words faze him. He was trained to remain calm in any situation, and was determined to show it. 

He swallowed, reciting the line he always gave as an answer. “I swore an oath to protect the crown. I intend to serve him until I die.”

The boy blinked, his eyes bright behind his lenses. Ignis still couldn’t tell of their true colour, even in the sunlight. “I mean,” he started, and not with pity Ignis had grown to expect, but with pure curiosity. “Is it lonely? Being away from your parents and everyone else? Only having Prince Noctis?”

That was something he wasn’t prepared to answer. It took him aback. It was true he knew of no other children other than Gladio and Noctis himself while growing up. His parents were not parents in a true sense, either; they were as distant as the countless tutors he’d had working at the Citadel. But—“Yes,” he found himself saying. 

It was the truth—he never let the weight of loneliness show through to anyone, because he had to be Noctis’ support. He had to be stable. But thinking of it now…it was something his mind came back to often, when left alone with his own thoughts. “And yet,” Ignis breathed, voice near asunder in the trailing wind, “I wouldn’t trade it for anything else.”

The boy held his hands together, gazing at them instead of him. “I know what it’s like,” he said, his tone soft. “I don’t have anyone either…I have to rely on myself, since no one’s ever there for me.”

They were similar, then. Even if in the smallest sense. Ignis felt a bond—a kinship with him. 

He pressed the last bandage on his knee, smoothing the wrinkles out on his still overheated skin. The boy worded out a thanks, inspecting it. It was patterned with blue fish over a light sky, meant for Noct’s use only, but it brought a smile to his face.

Ignis stood, brushing dust and gravel from himself once again. He held a hand out to him. “My name is Ignis, by the way,” he said as helped him off the bench with care. “Rude of me not to introduce myself sooner.”

“Ignis,” the boy said slowly, stretching his right arm and sounding out the syllables. He didn’t say it like it was a chore of decency or with revolt; he said it for what it was, only a name. “Thank you, Ignis!”

“It’s a pleasure,” he smiled. “And your name?”

It was like the boy was frozen, once the question left his lips. The wind blew his blond hair into his eyes, making the moment feel longer than it was. “W—well,” he started, regaining movement. “I’m Pr—”

He was drowned out by bells as the school let out, doors banging open and student chatter cramming itself into the quiet afternoon. He looked back at the crowd gathering as students started their journey home.

And he met Ignis’s eyes again, a silent goodbye in his own, before he continued his run. “Thank you, by the way!” he yelled over the deafening sound.

Ignis stood there, watching him, like an anchor sunken in a flowing river. He didn’t take his gaze off the golden boy even as students bumped into him in accident and malice.

The moment he turned the corner, Noctis came stumbling out the backdoors, his eyes brightening as he saw Ignis. He took quick, careful strides toward him. “Hey,” Noct tugged on his sleeve. “Let’s go. I don’t want to miss it.”

Ignis snapped out of his stupor and pulled his gaze away, taking firm hold of the prince’s hand. “Let’s go,” he repeated his words, guiding him away from the already gathering crowd. “Wouldn’t do good for you to be late.”

The drive toward the Citadel was silent save for generic questions about the day and his classes between both of them. Once they shut the doors and were descending the entrance steps, far away enough from supervising ears, Noct nudged his arm. “What was taking your attention back there, huh?”

“There was someone…,” their conversation halted as they entered the building, Kingsglaive and Crownsguard alike nodding to both of them in greeting. Noct’s pace was quicker than normal.

As the elevator doors slid closed, Noctis smirked devilishly. He elbowed him and asked, “You got a crush?”

“No,” Ignis shook his head, straightening his sleeves from Noct’s assault. “I saw him. The boy you speak often of.”

The prince blinked, not expecting that answer. “What boy—the guy from two years ago?” 

“Indeed.”

“Huh.” He was quiet for ten floors, mulling, then crossed his arms and shrugged. “So he’s still out there, then. What’s he like?”

There was more silence as Ignis turned over answers in his head. How was he supposed to answer? Reckless outside, yet carefully guarded of what was inside, with a subtle mark of _something else_ he couldn’t yet pinpoint—something else in both of them. “He’s like you,” he settled with. “You’d be good friends.”

“Mmm, maybe,” Noct mumbled as he stretched, yawning. “Did you get his name?”

“No,” Ignis admitted. “I didn’t.” 

He felt prickle of remorse for not trying harder. Two years ago, learning who that boy was was the only thing that mattered to Noctis, and Ignis knew he was still curious, deep inside. But he forced that regret underneath as the elevator chimed on the forty-second floor, metal doors sliding open, both prince and advisor leaving the conversation behind them.

* * *

Noctis was stood outside the door of his apartment, clicking on his phone screen to check the time. It was half past seven in the evening, on a Monday. The latest he’s ever been on a school night—the latest he’s ever been in general. He was already dreading the lecture Ignis sure had prepared for him, as his attention to curfews had become increasingly sparse, ever since he entered high school a month ago. 

At least he was back home in time for dinner—that counted for something, right?

But even with that thought in mind, he couldn’t keep the trepidation off his face as he swung the door open. “I’m back,” he announced, setting down his book bag on the nearby dresser.

The question came quicker than he could blink. “Where have you been?”

Noctis couldn’t help but grimace. Sometimes Ignis’s voice was jarring to his ears, particularly when he wanted to be left alone. “I was out.”

Ignis didn’t say anything more to him on the topic, fortunately, instead attending to a pot on the stove with a padded mitten. A whisk of something spicy had engulfed the entire apartment; Noctis could smell it all the way from the entrance.

He kicked off his dusty shoes, stepping over the threshold, passing the door to his bedroom and into the living room. “What are you making?”

“Curry.” 

“Huh,” Noct said. It was one of his favourites, and Ignis was well aware. But…even the promise of good food couldn’t shift the recurring grimness Noct felt as of late.

He passed Ignis at the kitchen, making his way to the sofa—and almost slipped on the newly polished floor. 

“Careful, Noct.”

The room was cleaned, he’d only noticed as he raised his head; the comics and games he had on the tables were all stacked back into the bookshelf, arranged by media type and then alphabetically, as Ignis always seemed to do. Clothes he was planning to wear again were nowhere to be seen, half finished packets of snacks he often craved—all gone. The entire room was spotless. Noctis’s jaw tightened; he wouldn’t be able to find anything again.

But as the thoughts went, the prick of annoyance he felt faded away. He fell back into the dullness he was now fully accustomed to. _Obviously._ Obviously Ignis would have; he always did.

Noctis discarded his tie and jacket onto an empty seat before sinking onto the two-piece, heaving out a tired breath. And since there was now nothing else in the room he could direct his attention to, he glanced at the kitchen across him.

Ignis was currently spooning rice onto two plates instead of one, setting them aside as he finished up the curry. Noctis sighed. Him having dinner here always meant one thing in the year Noct had lived alone—he was spending the night. Again. 

They were never this frequent. Ignis was here the Friday before, and the Saturday after, using the same excuse about having to keep a closer eye on him.

Noctis pulled out his phone, tapping on the screen absentmindedly. It seemed his nightly alone time was now a thing of the past. “You’re staying again?” he asked, already knowing what he’d say in return.

“At the Citadel’s request.” Ignis set their cutlery down on the table. “They’re worried about your emotional health. And I am, as well.”

Noctis collapsed sideways on the couch, rubbing his forehead. “I’m fine,” he said, a bit too sharply.

Ignis pressed his lips together. Noctis’s aloof approach to everything was attracting criticism in a bad way, from both citizens and nobility. Ignis had been ordered by councilmen to subvert it for the future of the kingdom, but—how? Distance did not work, nor did smothering him; both seemed to make him worsen.

And he did not want to aggravate his misery. The one thing he had always failed at throughout the years was being Noctis’s emotional support. It ate into him, especially now that Noctis was near falling off the deep end—and he wasn’t sure if he was stable enough to save him. 

All Ignis wanted was him to be happy, and fighting, lecturing him, wouldn’t be key to it. He took a breath, taking a more casual approach as he returned to the stove. “How was school today?”

“It was okay,” Noctis said, more interested in tapping away on his phone.

Fine. Perhaps he needed some space. Ignis said nothing more as he finished up dinner and set their plates on the table, pouring glasses of iced water for both of them. He pulled off his apron, setting it on a hook beside the fridge.

Noct’s head had perked up at food, and he clicked off his phone, scooting onto the dining chair near the window. He grabbed his fork with verve, immediately shovelling food into his mouth—who could blame him? His last meal was lunch at school.

Ignis shuffled into his own seat, taking a slow sip first. “I’d tell you to eat slower, but of course it wouldn’t change anything.”

“I’m gods hungry, and your food is good,” said Noct through a full mouth.

“Chew first,” Ignis rubbed his brow, but couldn’t help but smile at the compliment. “You’re a handful.”

Noctis smiled back—perhaps his first today.

He eventually slowed down, much to Ignis’s relief; and even when he pulled out his phone again before finishing, he let him do so. Ignis believed to keep sane, leniency was needed once in a while—deserved, in Noct’s case, with what fate he held daily on his shoulders.

He set his phone back down after a moment, a small sigh escaping from his lips. It was around the time no one else was online and filling up a room was impossible if one didn’t have a party of friends. He pushed sauce around on his plate, and Ignis saw this as an opportunity to make conversation.

“How are you liking high school?”

Noctis looked up at him and shrugged, still messing with his food. “It’s okay, I guess. It only started like a month ago, so I don’t know yet.”

Ignis set his cutlery aside, completely finished. “Made any friends?”

“I don’t know, mom,” he said, eyes crinkling a bit in embarrassment. “You know what it was like at my old school.”

“Well. It’s a new start—a favourable time to change your ways.”

Noct shook his head, amusement now faded, once again taking his phone in his hands. “Eh, I’m not planning to,” he said, head tilted low and eyes on the screen, blue light reflecting on his face. “I only need you and Gladio and Luna anyway.”

Ignis pursed his lips. It was flattering, yet not what he wanted for him. Unlike Ignis, Noctis chose not to be privately tutored in the Citadel in the stead of attending regular schooling, mainly for a chance to make friends outside of nobility. But as years passed it only seemed to be detrimental to him instead of liberating, and it wasn’t getting any better.

He was losing their discussion as Noctis became more absorbed in his game. Ignis decided to speak of the first thing that came to mind.

“What about him?”

It worked. He saw Noct tap pause, eyes darting up to his advisor. “Him?”

“Your golden boy, recall?” That was what Noctis always called him. “You wanted to be his friend.”

Noct’s face lit up—but he quickly pushed it under an uncaring demeanor as soon as it came. Ignis still caught it. “That was, like, five years ago,” Noct said, voice monotone, turning his gaze back to his plate. “I’m pretty sure he’s probably forgotten about me now.”

“Three years,” Ignis corrected him, setting his empty dish aside to rest his forearms and linked fingers on the table. “I’m sure he hasn’t.”

Noct pressed his lips together taut. Ignis knew his insistence was starting to bother him, but there was no other way to get it through to him—that he wanted him to live his life.

“I hope you’re aware I fully mean it.” Ignis moved to take a long sip of his water, massaging the bridge of his nose under his glasses before pushing them back in place. “He’s very much alike you. You’d be great friends.”

Noct said nothing, staring intently at his rice left, as if he could will it to move. The words hang in the air between them, the ringing in his head too loud in the stifling room.

Noctis dissipated it by clearing his throat. “I don’t think it’s possible for me to…,” he started to say. But on second thought, trailed off and pushed himself up instead, his chair squeaking on the newly polished floor. 

Ignis set his glass down, watching him. “Noctis?”

The grip on his phone was tight as he looked out the window, at the city—his city—bathed in dim light from the full moon, occupied by twinkling steel buildings and cars rushing by.

“You don’t understand,” he said, too softly, that Ignis had to strain his ears to make out the words. “It’s been three years. Three years, Ignis. If he had wanted to befriend me as you say, he would’ve done so already.”

He looked so solemn, so _alone_ , standing there in the moonlight. Ignis knew he needed someone—someone not bound by blood or oath. Someone who could support him in ways Ignis could not.

He took a long, deep breath. “I’m adamantly sure he wishes to,” he said, firm. “And the years wouldn’t have changed his opinion.”

Noctis shook his head, and an annoyed deep sigh ran through his teeth. There was no way. Of course Ignis knew a lot of things—but he wasn’t a god, an astral, he couldn’t read minds and emotions and thoughts. He couldn’t know what Noct saw in everyone’s eyes as they looked at him in the hallways, in classes—fear, disgust, contempt.

He couldn’t believe anyone could think of him differently, no matter how many times Ignis tried to change his mind; and it felt like a betrayal, having the closest person he had lie so blatantly to his face about it. All he wanted right now was to be left alone. He rubbed his eyes and ran his hands through his too short hair, palm pressed against his forehead to combat a rising headache.

“You can go,” Noctis said, softly, turning away. He walked past him towards the hall, not daring a look back. “I don’t need you anymore right now.” 

“Noct—”

“Please,” he whispered as he grabbed the door handle to his bedroom, not meeting his eyes. “Go.”

He had pushed him too far, Ignis knew, but he couldn’t leave him alone in this cruel world. “Noctis, listen to me.” Ignis stood and was beside him in a moment, nearly having skid on the floors himself, placing a hand on his own on the door knob. He felt Noctis tense underneath. “There are some things I can’t do for you, despite how much I desire to. I know you’re aware of my failures regarding raising you, and how they’re accumulating as of late—both in the eyes of the Citadel and in myself.”

Noct didn’t say anything, expression frozen.

“And that boy…when I met him outside your school a year ago while I waiting for you…he asked me if it was lonely. Being different from everyone.” He let his hand go, letting him think what he will of the words. “He has no one but himself—like us.”

Ignis fell silent, and Noctis said nothing, only blinking as he thought it over. There was no sound except the air conditioner running and the distant beep of a car down below.

He was fully aware loneliness wasn’t a good feeling, especially for someone who had dealt with it his entire life. “Noctis,” he spoke. “At least try. For me.”

The nod was subtle, but enough for him.

Ignis stepped back to give him space. “If you truly wish so,” he said, ignoring the tiny voice in his mind telling him he was again disobeying orders, “I can leave you alone tonight. But that’s the most I can do before the Citadel will likely interfere, especially with your meeting attendance as of late.”

Noctis bit his lip. It was true he had been skipping meetings, opting to sleep in instead. Who could blame him when councillors only used him as a device to undermine the royalty? He only hurt his father with his presence. And when he removed himself, he knew he had hurt him more; but far away he could pretend his disappointed gaze did not exist.

He was called incompetent, lazy, an embarrassment to the Lucis Caelum line, both behind his back and in front of it. The thoughts of inferiority always overwhelmed him when he was alone. At least—ducking under the Citadel’s extended reach and spending hours drowning in aimless entertainment seemed to dull the pain.

Ignis took the blame. He always did. When Noctis was caught one day by the Crownsguard, Ignis didn’t let them get a word in, insisting it was his fault and his negligence. When Noctis started skipping meetings, Ignis attended them on top of his already busy schedule, writing him personal notes so he wouldn’t miss any topics of importance.

Now he was giving him time, something he could barely afford—and he was giving him hope, too. It was true what he had said, that high-school was a new start.

Noctis bit his lip. He knew he didn’t deserve him.

He shut his eyes tight, dropping his hand back to his side. “Why…do you care so much about me?”

It wasn’t what Ignis was expecting him to say next, but it was a question he could answer full-heartedly. “I swore an oath to be by your side, Noctis.” He had said it firm, meaning every word. “Through everything and anything. I’ll do anything I can for you.”

Noctis was fidgeting with his sleeve, thinking too much.

“But, Noct…,” Ignis took a moment. “There are things you have to rely on yourself for. I can’t be there for you forever.”

He raised his chin, and Ignis could see how bright his eyes were, shining in the light. “Thanks,” he said, voice low. To anyone else it would only be too short of a word—but to Ignis, it was worth everything.

A wave of impulse washed over and for perhaps the first time, Ignis let it take the rein. He pulled Noctis into a tight hug, arms nestled around his, resting his chin on his shoulder. And slowly, he felt it returned.

There was an uncharacteristic shake in Noct’s shoulders when he let go. Ignis clapped his back, heading back to the kitchen to give him a bit of privacy.

“Don’t take this as an allowance,” he called out. “You still have to finish your dinner.” 

He could tell there was a smile on Noct’s lips from the puff of breath he let out.

* * *

It was shivering cold in Noct’s bedroom three hours later, the way he preferred it. He was half buried in his two dark duvets as he silently watched Ignis lying on a spare mattress on the floor, scribbling into a notebook.

He had asked him to stay, of course. He was his friend—and Ignis would never admit it aloud, but Noctis knew he enjoyed the nightly company.

With a small thud Ignis shut his book and placed it aside, standing up to turn off the overhead lights. “Be sure to rest well,” he said, switching them off, letting the yellow hue from a small night lamp by Noct’s desk be the only light in the room. “Remember, you have school tomorrow.”

Noctis heard him ease onto the mattress, pulling up the covers. “No promises,” he said.

There was a soft sound as Ignis set his glasses beside his pillow, settling in. “You will try, right?”

Noctis blinked; he wasn’t sure if Ignis was speaking of sleep or of their conversation at dinner. Perhaps he uttering nonsense again, as he seemed to do once the last Ebony wore off and he finally relaxed. “Uh, sure. Goodnight, Specs.”

He turned towards the wall and feigned sleep.

When he was sure Ignis drifted asleep by his slow, levelled breathing, Noctis slid from his bed. Socks padded softly on the wooden floor as he found his way to his his desk, sliding the drawer open. His fingertips grazed the worn leather he’d become well accustomed to over the years.

Under the sheets he switched his phone light on dim and read the latest paragraphs, running his thumb over the indentations the written words had left.

His fingers paused on the last sentence, where she had written in between filled-in hearts: _Mustering the courage to take the first step is half the battle._

Perhaps it was a sign. Perhaps he _should_ try.

He was midway writing a reply when he yawned, the pen slipping from his grip and clattering onto the floor. He left it there, and the notebook ajar on his lap, too tired to return it to his desk.

When Ignis woke him up the next morning, the notebook was gone.

* * *

For a city named Insomnia, the streets were always deserted past ten in the evening.

Gladio’s breathing was even as he padded down the sidewalk, the rubber heels of his shoes leaving soft thuds on the pavement. Music spilled from his earphones with every step, the white wires bobbing with his familiar movement.

He was turning a small corner past a closed convenience store when his soothing piano notes were cut by a piercing ring. There was a stumble in his step and he had to catch himself with the trunk of a tree, coughing and wiping the cooled sweat off his forehead as he fumbled for his phone in his zipped pocket. 

_Ifrit (don’t answer)_ flashed on the screen. Gladio gave out a sigh. He unheeded his own warning and opened the call.

“Hey,” he said, catching his breath. “Iggy—”

“I’m worried about Noctis,” Ignis rushed in with not so much a greeting. Gladio could hear the loud shuffle of paper on the line, could hear various thuds and bangs as Ignis did gods knew what. “He’s being cold to me,” he continued, barely audible over the noise. “I believe he’s—”

“Hold on,” Gladio cut in. “Just. Hold on for a sec.” He took a moment to breathe, and thankfully, Ignis did too. “Where are you now?”

Hesitation. That was an answer in itself.

“Citadel, huh?” Gladio said, shaking his head. “You know it’s near midnight?”

“I’m aware,” Ignis said. “It’s simply…,” he trailed off, his apprehension to speaking about it very, very evident in his tone. “It doesn’t matter. Noctis is at his apartment.”

“And I’m guessing they ordered you to give him space?”

There was a moment of silence, only a faraway car zooming somewhere, and then a soft hum of affirmation. “But,” Ignis added, voice small, “I truly believe leaving him alone is making it worse.”

Gladio trailed back to the front of the convenience store, easing himself onto a cold wooden bench, adjusting to a comfortable position. He already knew this would be a long conversation. “Uh-huh,” he said, wiping the sweat from his forehead, resting his arm on the back of the chair. “What makes you think so?”

“It’s quite hard to elucidate, however…it’s…” Ignis was stalling; something Gladio had rarely experienced him doing before. And it was proof in itself that he truly thought the matter was worrying—Gladio sat up straighter, and heard him clear his throat.

“He’s always been distant, yes,” said Ignis, “but—as of late, he’s purposely ignoring my calls, his grades are taking a dip, he’s refusing my help.” 

“Huh.” These were unprecedented changes, and he had the right to be worried. But Gladio couldn’t help but grin—for perhaps the first time, he knew something important before Ignis did. And damn, would he use it to his advantage. “I saw him earlier today, y’know?” he said. “There is a difference.”

“You understand,” Ignis breathed, the phone speakers making his voice crackle. “You do.”

Even over the phone, Gladio could tell the late night and Ignis’s unfortunate habit to keep himself busy when stressed was getting to him. He would leave the teasing for another day. “Eh, don’t get so worked up about it,” he took a swig from his bottled water, pressing it onto his forehead. “You should go home.”

A cold breeze blew in, rustling leaves overhead. Gladio could see the full moon shining through the outlines, casting pale light on the concrete sidewalks and all the cracks within. The silence outstretched was not strained, even with the weight of duty and the prince between them. He heard Ignis take a breath, and the statement next sounded tiny, weathered. “Perhaps I should.”

The wind slowed. The night felt suddenly too still. And even though he promised Noctis to not mention it, Gladio cleared his throat. “There’s someone,” he said into the receiver. “He’s happier.”

He had seen them together at an arcade he usually frequented with Noct, elbowing each other as they drained all their spare cash on a rigged machine. _A classmate of mine,_ Noctis had introduced him as, and he was a blond, seemingly too active and extraverted kid; Gladio could tell at first glance he was the reason for the falling grades and the late returns to home. 

But—he already believed that he was somewhat a good influence. Noct’s genuine smile told it all.

“He’s…,” Gods—Ignis’s tiredness was evident in his tone. The usual Ignis would have asked for clarity, never leaving anything vague. But he only took his time sounding out the words, not even asking for this person’s name. “I see.” Gladio only heard his breathing steady, and in his voice—a hint of relief? “Thank you.”

Conversations like these—they were corollary of their childhoods grown so close together, tasked with a common goal. Words subtle but full of meaning. “He’s okay. I promise,” Gladio reassured him; he knew that that was all he needed to know for now. “Go home, Ignis.”

The call ended with a long, dull tone. A photo of a young Ignis’s stern face blinked under his contact name, a dim _call ended_ written across his chin. Gladio clicked the screen off and pocketed his phone, easing himself off the now warmed bench.

But he did not resume his run. He took a frozen, silent moment to himself, gazing up to the full moon again.

Only yesterday it felt like he was twelve years old, quarrelling with the young prince during defense training. Now he was eighteen, nearing when he would take his oath and ink his skin as was written with his birth.

As he started a brisk walk, getting his blood pumping, he thought of his friends—and how different they were now. He had watched the then-starry-eyed Ignis grow more frazzled as he took more tasks onto his shoulders every year, watched how Noctis slowly withdrew into himself as his father started to draw shallow breaths. And, by his own father’s gazes, he knew what fate laid ahead of them three would not treat them amiably.

Life was coming in all too fast. His fist tightened around the thin wire of his earphones. They hadn’t even had the chance to act as normal kids, normal teenagers—he took a deep breath to relax himself. No. He wouldn’t think of it today.

He thought of Noctis’s genuine smile again, of Ignis letting clarity just be out of reach. All he wanted was for his friends to be happy. Perhaps Noctis letting his grades fall the slightest bit was a good thing.

When he regained his pace, a cold breeze caressed his skin, whipping strands of his hair away from his cheeks.

* * *

“Noct.” Freckled arms were slung over the back of his seat, chin resting on top of them, watching the prince not even flinch when he lightly tapped him on the head. “Hey.” His knees were bumping into the front of Noctis’s desk, and he gave a sigh. “C’mon, Noct!”

“Dude,” Noct said, not looking up. “I’m working, Prompto.”

Noctis was fully focused on writing in answers on a handout that was given just a class before. Prompto belched. It was due _next week_ , it was their lunch period, and he really wanted to talk to his best friend right now. 

Their classroom was deserted, save for them; after the novelty of having the crown prince as a classmate wore off, most quickly grew bored of watching him eat and do schoolwork in silence. Prompto was glad for it—even with all his self-taught confidence, he needed time alone to recharge.

The midday sun pooled through the windows at an angle, giving misaligned chairs and crumpled papers a light glow. The holographic fabric of someone’s pencil case shone bright into Prompto’s eyes; he turned away, the silence in the room now making his ears ring. 

Noctis didn’t take any notice of it, flipping his paper to another page. Gods. Prompto tapped his finger on his desk again, and—nothing. He splayed his hand against the instructions, over the sentence Noctis was writing; Noctis didn’t flinch, writing words between the gaps of his fingers.

Ugh. Prompto leaned in close, eyes wide, staring daggers into Noctis’s face—

“Astrals. Fine.” Noct finally lifted his head, meeting Prompto’s eyes, setting down his pen and linking his hands together. “What is it?”

Prompto blew a big breath past his lips, ruffling a hand in his too short blond hair. “I’m bored as hell.”

Noctis allowed the tiniest hint of a smirk through. “Do you think I care?”

“Meanie,” Prompto pouted. He nudged Noctis’s shin with the toe of his shoe, resting his cheek on his forearms. “Since when did you care about schoolwork so much, anyway?”

“Since always,” Noctis said, looking over his answers. “And you always keeping me up late is making my grades fall.”

“Yeah, by a zero-point-five percentile!”

Noct ignored his stuck out tongue, picking up his pen again.

“Anyway,” Prompto continued, chair scooting as he got up to his feet to straighten himself out. “What I really wanted to ask you was about that guy last week at the arcade. Mr Amicitia or Mr Scientia?”

It immediately broke Noctis’s concentration. He looked up with a grimace. “Dude. Don’t call them misters, that’s weird. They’re only, like, a year older than us.”

Prompto pushed the sleeves of his blazer up, loosening his school tie. It was nearing the start of summer, and Noctis had already gotten used to hearing him complain about the heat every five minutes. “Fine,” Prompto said. “What should I call them, then?”

“Gladio and Ignis.” He took a moment to yawn, already growing drowsy. Then—there was a thud on his table, Prompto having spread his palms on his hand-out, leaning over to show him his very expecting expression. Noctis pushed him away as he laughed. “That was Gladio. Shield.”

“Dude,” Prompto hit his desk again, and Noctis snatched his paper away before he could smudge the ink even more. “That was your shield?”

“Yeah.” For some reason, Noctis felt as if he already knew the answer without needing the clarification. “I just told you—”

“He’s only like a year older than me?” Prompto’s eyes were wide, borderline cartoonish. “Can he—can he be my gym trainer or something? Please, Noct?”

“You’re being weird.” He fell back, leaning on his chair, crossing his arms against his chest. “May I get back to my homework now?”

Prompto ignored him, rummaging through his school bag. Noctis didn’t think much of it. Ever since Ignis had started packing the spare pastries as a snack, Prompto constantly claimed his food for his own. He didn’t blink as he pulled something out; but instead of his bento, it was an all too familiar notebook, the red leather gleaming in the sunlight. “What’s—”

“Nothing—” Noctis snatched it out of his hands a bit too quickly, stuffing it under his desk. He crossed his arms over it in an inadequate attempt to pretend like nothing just happened. “What are you looking for anyway?” he asked, words coming out fast and pitched. “Those pastries?”

Prompto only managed a single nod in before Noctis grabbed the bento box and stuffed it in his arms.

It only took them both a minute to forget the odd commotion, Prompto finishing his first pastry, Noctis giving in and taking his first. He had his papers and pen out again but was paused, staring at Prompto licking confectioner’s sugar off his fingers and trying to hold in his tease.

“Why do you get the same snack everyday?” Prompto asked, patting his palms together.

“My advisor’s trying to perfect the recipe,” Noctis said, examining his half eaten tart. “He’s been trying for years.”

“Mr Scientia, right?”

“Hey.” Noctis glared at him. “I told you, no misters.”

“Fine, fine.” He raised his hands up. “ _Ignis_ , then, since you insist.” He grabbed another pastry, twirling it in his fingers. “Anyway, when am I going to meet these guys? Aren’t we already in that stage of our relationship?”

Noct cringed, lightly smacking him on the shoulder. “What’s with the interest, weirdo?”

“I dunno, really.” He licked the confectioner’s sugar off the top of this tart. “Just curious.”

“Huh.” Noct tilted his head. He had thought of it before, of the four of them together as a friend group; but that involved submitting Prompto to a thorough background investigation, a violation of privacy Noctis never agreed with. And—he liked the normalcy he and Prompto shared now. Unlike Ignis and Gladio, he chose to be friends with him out of his own accord, no _oaths_ or _duty_ influencing his decision.

The past two months they’ve been friends were some of the best days of his life—arcades, King’s Knight, late night conversations. He wasn’t ready for it to change, not yet. But even so—the thought of three of his closest friends getting along together…it was something Luna had brought up to him a few weeks ago, and something Noctis knew he truly wanted in the end.

He rested his cheek on his closed palm. “It’ll be soon,” was all he decided on.

Prompto nodded, powdered lips widening to a grin, the sun shining on his freckled cheeks. “Soon.”

* * *

Ignis’s finger tapped impatiently on Noctis’s kitchen table, where a now cooled bowl of broth rested beside two empty ones. His other hand was gripping his phone tight, _call failed_ flashing over Noctis’s picture on the screen. “Something’s definitely wrong,” he said to Gladio, who was crumpled up on the sofa he was way too big for now. “He wouldn’t let it die like this.”

Gladio didn’t look up from his well-worn paperback, thumbing to the next page. “He’s a teenager in high school, Iggy,” he said, too nonchalantly for Ignis’s taste. “Rebellion against their parents is second nature.”

“He’s a _prince_ gone missing, and I am _not_ his parent.” Ignis redialled again, only to be met with the same message about his number being out of coverage like the last nineteen times. “This is ridiculous,” he pushed his bangs back with a hand, hair having increasingly grew wracked and messy as his stress heightened this evening. “I’m contacting the Crownsguard—”

“Wait!” Gladio slammed his book down on the coffee table, getting up to his feet. “Look, he’s probably fooling around with someone. That’s around the age most start, y’know.” He calmly shrugged, checking his wristwatch. “It’s not even that late, it’s only nine.”

Ignis’s eyebrows had shot up at _fooling_ , and now he was glaring at him with a very bitter expression. “Are you implying he’s—”

“I said _probably_ ,” groaned Gladio. “Look, he needs the space sometimes. It’s more than likely he’s at an arcade again, pretending he’s a normal high school student just for an hour.” He eased back down, pushing the sleeves of his sweatshirt up, exposing red skin and wings of a tattoo still in progress. “It’s Noct. He writes a paragraph in that lovers’ notebook every single day. Do you really think he’d be out with someone?”

Ignis considered this for a moment, and Gladio let himself exhale, picking up his novel again. But it slipped from his grip and onto his lap as Ignis pocketed his phone, untying his apron with haste. “He set you up to this, hasn’t he?” he said with conviction. “Blocking my number and asking you over to distract me?”

“What?” Gladio blinked, then snorted, looking amused. “Man, that’s far-fetched, even for someone as paranoid as you.”

Ignis ignored the provocation and stood squarely across him from the coffee table, holding out his hand. “Give me your phone.”

When Gladio didn’t comply, only swallowing and not meeting his eyes, he knew he was correct. 

Ignis moved quick, pulling his leather coat over his crisp grey button-up. “Get up,” he said, grabbing his car keys and pointing them at his friend on the sofa. “You won’t be spared.”

“Damn Scientia wrath,” Gladio grumbled, placing his paperback open-faced onto the coffee table before shuffling over to the entrance of the apartment. “At least I tried, Noct,” he mumbled to himself as he eased himself into his sneakers.

Ignis already had his loafers on and was watching him sat on the threshold, tying up his shoelaces agonizingly slow. Obviously stalling—but at least it was proof the prince wasn’t in grave danger. He let out an impatient breath and smoothed down his ruffled hair, straightening his glasses. “If Noct wanted some alone time without a nationwide search alert warranted, he could’ve simply asked for it.”

“Can’t blame him. Asking doesn’t feel the same.” He stood up, stretching his legs out and patting the wrinkles out of his sweaty tracksuit that Ignis couldn’t believe he still hasn’t changed out of. Gladio watched him swing the door open with haste.

He followed his frantic friend down the hallway, taking long strides to keep up with his pace. Ignis practically slammed on the elevator button with his fist, tapping his foot as if it would make it arrive faster.

When the lift doors slid open, Ignis barrelled inside, disdain for Gladio’s slow pace clearly painted on his expression. 

Gladio leaned backward on the tinted glass window. “I actually don’t know if he’s at the arcade,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “I just said that as example.”

“You—”

“Here,” he slipped his phone out of his pocket, holding it out for Ignis. He knew him well enough to know what he would’ve asked for next.

Ignis took it, ignoring his very revealing background image of himself, tapping into the phone app and scrolling through his contacts. There were so many of them, all named absurdly, and he wasn’t the slightest bit surprised.

He stalled on the letter _P _on a contact marked _Princess___ with a heart; it seemed like the kind of joke Gladio would make. Ignis didn’t think much of it as he pressed dial—

Gladio grabbed his phone out of his grip, immediately ending the call before the first ring. “Th—that’s not Noct,” he said, uncharacteristically red. He bit his lip as he scrolled up, silently selecting a contact and dialing the number before handing it back to Ignis.

But before he could take it into his hands, out the speaker rang a now very familiar message: _the number you have dialled is out of coverage area…._

Gladio just shrugged as he ended the call. “Huh. So his phone’s really dead.”

The doors slid open, and into the near full parking lot Ignis walked with the quickest pace he could without it being considered running. He got into his car that was parked a few rows away and switched on the ignition, hastily driving over to where Gladio was by the elevator—but his tires suddenly skidded to a stop at the turn, still too far away.

Gladio jogged over, opening the door to the backseat he was fond of, and sank into the cool leather. He leaned over towards Ignis’s seat, propping an arm up on it as he peered over. “What’s up?”

He was staring at his phone, at a screen looking too bright inside the tinted windows.

unknown number | 21:14  
crescent theater by redmond  
10 mins

“He’s been kidnapped,” Ignis exclaimed, voice with a breathless edge, as he set his phone in a cup holder and gained speed obviously passing whatever limit was set for civilian parking lots.

Gladio decided to strap a seatbelt across himself this time, something he rarely did in usual settings, much to Ignis’s dismay. “That’s his favourite place to watch movies at. Maybe he’s borrowed someone’s phone?” he offered, looking at the window as they drove onto the city streets.

He could hear Ignis gritting his teeth, his breath hitched. He neglected to answer, focusing on rushing through the deserted roads. His entire body swerved as he took sharp turns, again, again, again.

“You know he’s not in danger,” said Gladio once they’d entered the Crescent district, a quarter of the way there. “You know it. You just won’t admit it with that ego of yours.”

Ignis ignored him, glancing once over his watch before pressing harder on the pedal. “We have seven minutes until their deadline. What do you expect they’d demand for him? A high ransom? A royal heirloom? A law changed—”

Gladio ignored this, holding out his phone to him. “Iggy, look.” Ignis didn’t take it, gaze fixed on the road. Gladio just sighed, pulling it back and reading the information on the screen out loud. “Seven minutes is around when the last showing of _Deepwater_ ends,” he said. “He’s watching a movie.”

“Do you really _think_ —” he cut himself off as he swerved over a corner, narrowly missing a collision with another car. 

“Be careful!”

Ignis exhaled sharply, obviously annoyed at the fact he had to explain this right now, especially when Noct could very well be in danger. “He hates going to the cinema alone.”

“What if he’s not alone?”

Ignis took a quiet moment, meaning he was considering it, as his friend had grown to know. But then he shook his head. “Highly unlikely—”

He was cut off by a loud beep from a car in the opposite lane—making him take a sharp swerve back into his.

Gladio frustratingly hit the back of Ignis’s car seat. “Stop stressing out over something you just assumed,” he loudly said. “And—slow down! You’re endangering me _and_ crown citizens!”

There was no verbal answer, but he saw the speedometer gradually lower from eighty to thirty. They spent the next few minutes in silence. 

Halfway there a red light stopped their advance; Ignis impatiently tapped his finger against the steering wheel, watching the countdown, wondering if they were always this infuriating.

He turned back to Gladio, jaw still tightened. “What if all your conjecture is wrong?”

“It’s a movie about gods damn _fish_ , Ignis,” he rested his palms on his neck, letting himself relax now that the car wasn’t moving at a deathly speed. “It’s basically beckoning for him.”

Ignis turned back to stare at the red light. “He once skipped the first fishing trip he’s had in _years_ at the garden right next to the Citadel because I wasn’t able to come.”

Gladio raised his brow. “You don’t believe me about him having a friend?”

“I never said that; I said it was highly unlikely.” He exhaled sharp. “That phone call was weeks ago. There is an obvious tendency for friendships to die down after the initial stage. I’m simply…not taking chances.”

“Well,” Gladio leaned his chin on his knuckles, elbow firmly rested on the armrest as the car started moving again. “We’ll see. Sometimes he has surprises up his sleeves.”

But even so, Ignis drove the rest of the route at an at least acceptable speed, wordless affirmation that he had dropped his kidnapping belief. The car rolled to a swift stop outside the theater at less than thirty seconds left to the deadline, tires screeching to a halt near the curb. Ignis pulled on the handbrake and it set with a sharp click. “I’m going in,” he announced to Gladio as he unclasped his seatbelt.

“Ignis—”

He ignored him, neglecting to turn off the engine before pulling on the door handle, taking a step outside. “If I’m not back by five minutes—”

Gladio gave up trying to get through him with words and grabbed his arm before he could move any further. “Ignis!” he said, pointing out the windshield. “Look. Does he look like he’s in danger to you?”

And—there was Noctis, expression gleeful and amused, eyes crinkled up in mid-laugh. He was still in his school uniform, holding a half empty packet of movie theater popcorn in one hand, his other arm slung over the shoulders of someone next to him.

Ignis immediately recognised him as the boy who stumbled into him that day in late spring, with absolutely no doubt. His blond hair glinted in the moonlight, and he was laughing, too, at something Noctis said.

“Huh,” Gladio remarked, letting go of Ignis. “He’s…happy.”

He truly was. A moment later Noctis caught glance of Ignis’s car and pointed at it for his companion, rushing over to open the passenger’s side. “Perfect timing, Iggy!” he said, and stepped aside for his new friend. “No one uses this seat,” Noctis was saying to him, nudging him with an elbow. “It’s completely fine.”

“It is not fine, Noctis,” Ignis said, shutting his car door. “We need to talk.”

Gladio could tell what was coming by how hard Ignis slammed his door and how Noctis was stuffing his mouth with leftover popcorn. He made eye contact with the terrified blond and tipped his head in greeting. “Uh, stay here, I’ll sort them out,” he said, unbuckling his seatbelt and opening his own door. “Nice to see you again, by the way.”

Ignis was pacing around the sidewalk, hands in his hair as he wracked through it again. “That was extremely reckless, Noctis.” 

“I know—”

“You could’ve been _taken_ —”

“I know,” Noct grinned with his mouth full, cheeks puffed, highlighted by the bright theatre lights. “But it was worth it.”

Gods. He felt like an absolute wreck, like a failure of an advisor. But it was true what Gladio had said: Noctis was happy. And with the king’s deteriorating health catching the attention of nationwide headlines and every tabloid existing, he needed this more than ever.

Ignis felt that should’ve said more, should’ve been more harsh on him, but—he had heeded his words. He was acting like a normal teenager. Wasn’t that exactly what he wanted for him? What he asked him to try?

He allowed himself a glance at the blond in the passenger’s seat, and was met with a sheepish and awkward wave. Ignis gave a formal nod back. It was obviously him, the boy Noctis had desperately wanted to befriend as a child, the boy Ignis knew had no one there to rely on.

Perhaps he needed Noctis now, too.

“You’re sure you’re not hurt?” Ignis said, more like a statement than a question.

Noctis tilted his head in a nod. “Not at all.”

And with a breath, he let his frustration tide over, easing his closed fists open.

“Hey, you two,” Gladio said, patting Noct’s shoulder. “Go wait in the car.” He grabbed a fistful of popcorn as Noct walked away, eyes meeting a princely scorn. “Iggy,” he said as he popped kernels into his mouth. “I need to talk to you.”

Gladio leant against a display showing bright digital movie posters, the red of one giving his skin and tracksuit a harsh hue.

“Calmed down now?” he asked his friend, chewing his popcorn with loud _crunches_. “No more frantic Ignis driving?”

Ignis crossed his arms, shifting his weight onto his other leg. “I…suppose.”

“About the other kid,” Gladio said, gesturing to the car with a popcorn kernel, “I went and submitted him for a background investigation when you called me that night.”

“And?”

“Nothing to worry about.” He smirked. “Exemplary, even. Marshal Leonis himself approved of him.”

Ignis’s mouth fell agape in surprise. “You—the Marshal—”

“Yeah,” Gladio said, dusting off his hands on his tracksuit. “Anyway—it’s nine on a Friday, Ignis. Well behind curfew. Noct’s happy, he got his grades back up for you, and he’s in safe hands. Are you going to ruin a night that could be one of the best nights in his life?”

This was new, foreign. Ignis stalled on the answer, letting the sounds of the city overcome him; faraway cars and loud chatter and people having good Friday nights. The word duty flashed in his mind—but wasn’t this it? Keeping him from spiralling down?

Ignis opened his lips, then closed them, then opened them again. “Alright,” he said. “Fine.”

And—he had to admit—he was curious what their new friend was like.

The boy was in the front seat holding his book bag on his lap. “Uh,” he said, glancing over to the two of them as they seated themselves and shut their doors. His gaze lingered longer on the advisor. “Hi.”

If there was any recognition, he didn’t let it show. In the dim glow of the dashboard Ignis could see the freckles splayed across the face he remembered so clearly.

Of course it was him.

“Nice to meet you,” the boy said, darting his eyes away, looking a bit panicked. Acting like it was the first time he was meeting him. “Uh…Mr Amicitia and…,” he swallowed deeply, trying to remember Ignis’s name, but it seemingly wouldn’t come to him. “Um—”

Noct cut him off by rummaging his popcorn. He was beside Gladio and behind Ignis, already relaxed in his usual place. “I told him about you two, y’know,” he said, reading the awkward air between them. 

“Oh?” Gladio leant forward, an arm on Ignis’s headrest as he poked the shoulder of the new boy. “So you know all about us, but we don’t know anything about you, huh?” He grinned wide at him. “What’s your name?”

The boy smiled a nervous smile, inhaling quickly. “Uh, I’m Prompto,” he said. “Prompto Argentum. I’m a classmate of, um, Noct’s.”

And with those words, it felt like a weight lifted from Ignis’s shoulders, one he wasn’t aware had rested on them years ago.

“Noct, huh?” Gladio grinned and nudged Noctis’s arm, who only pushed him away to finish his popcorn. “Nice.” Gladio patted his chest as an introduction. “I’m Gladiolus Amicitia, and this is Noctis Lucis Caelum, even though you already know that. The killjoy over here is Ignis Stupido Scientia—”

“How many times do I have to mention that I don’t have a middle name—and it certainly wouldn’t be that?” Ignis sighed, but not one of annoyance—seeing Noct was truly safe had quelled all the tension he had held. He glanced over to Prompto, giving a small but polite smile. “Ignis Scientia.”

There wasn’t any subtle changes in Prompto’s expression at his name. Perhaps it was the hair he now wore unstyled, his thicker glasses…or maybe he truly did forget what happened years ago? “It’s really nice to meet you two,” Prompto said.

“The feeling is mutual.” Ignis clicked his seatbelt on, and heard them all follow suit. “Apologies about the…display you had to witness.”

“It’s fine.” A nervous, shaky laugh sounded from his throat, and he wasn’t meeting anyone’s eyes, staring at the sleeve of a blazer peeking out of his bag. “Uh, thanks for the ride, by the way.”

“It’s no trouble.” Ignis pulled on the handbrake, finally rolling the car into a drive with the normal cautious speed he used. “Where would you like to be dropped off?”

Prompto didn’t reply, clearing his throat. Ignis opened his mouth to ask again—but Noctis spoke up over him before he could. “Actually, I was thinking…,” Noct faded, completely unsure of what else Ignis would allow to slip through today. “I was thinking that Prompto could stay over tonight?”

It would’ve been too easy to refuse. There were a plethora of reasons he could’ve used, such as security, punishment for his act today, or that he needed an early rest, but…glancing at the rear-view mirror, Ignis could see Noct smiling behind him. His face was as bright as it had been when he had first pointed Prompto out on that rainy day, three years before. 

Gladio was right. He was happy. 

And with Marshal Leonis’s approval…it was obvious. 

“Alright,” he said, as he looked back to the empty road. He could feel everyone in the car exhale. “I permit it.” 

Prompto beamed, another laugh bubbling from his lips, and not a nervous one. “Thanks, Mr Scientia.” 

It was a surprise—and it didn’t feel right. “Ignis,” he said as he took a right turn. “You can call me Ignis.”

“Ignis,” Prompto repeated, and the way he said it was exactly the same way he did a year ago—not conceited or with contempt. Just like what it was: a name. “Thanks, Ignis.”

“Thanks, Specs,” Noctis echoed, plastic rustling as he dropped his empty popcorn packet on the car floor. “C’mon, let’s go home.”

* * *

The rest of the drive to the city centre was the other three mingling amongst themselves, talking of games and movies and comics Ignis couldn’t contribute to the conversation about. He only listened until Gladio poked his shoulder, asking if he could stop by his place to pick up a sleeping mat for their new friend.

Gladio had tugged Noct out with him, leather seats squeaking as they skidded to the sidewalk. “Iris would want to see him,” was all he gave as explanation to the other two before shutting the door.

Then there was only the sound of cooled air being pushed through the car vents, accompanying the awkward silence.

Ignis tapped his finger on the driving wheel, glancing over to their new friend. Prompto was only wearing his school button-up with the sleeves pushed up, tie and blazer forgone. On his right wrist was the same wristband from before, now yellowed and outstretched, but still at the same spot.

Prompto caught him staring and gave him a big smile; sheepish, yet an attempt to diffuse tension. Ignis’s face softened at the gesture, giving a small smile back.

Being around new people was something Ignis dealt with often, but only in a professional manner. It was easy to fall into the steps of courtesy that had been hammered into him at youth at such meetings, except—Prompto was far from it. Far from the world of nobility. He was completely new territory that Ignis hadn’t traversed before.

He grew up with Gladio and Noctis out of obligation to his oath. Prompto wasn’t held down by those bloodlines. Everything he did would be out of honesty or for entertainment, not for political or financial gain. Even just being around him, Ignis felt the heavy burden on his shoulders lighten, fading more with every smile he gave him.

Perhaps it was fate, Prompto being here tonight. They all needed someone like him—someone who was a light to them. 

Prompto cleared his throat, breaking Ignis’s stupor. He didn’t notice a blush had spread upon the blond’s freckled cheeks. “Uh, is something wrong with my face?” he asked, scratching his jaw. “What are you staring at?”

Ignis blinked, looking away. “Nothing,” he said, fixing his slightly skewed glasses. “My apologies.”

“It’s okay.” He set his hand back onto his bag. “I zone out a lot too.”

Ignis pressed his lips together, not knowing what else to say. He would’ve asked if his parents gave permission to spend the night, but…Prompto’s words from two years were still fresh in his mind.

He instead looked out the windshield to Gladio’s house. It was a large compound near the small forested area of the city, surrounded with high bricked walls, taking up the entire block. Ignis visited inside once, a decade ago, and the only thing he remembered was family pictures hung on every wall.

“It’s a nice place,” Prompto said. Even in the darkness, Ignis could see the way Prompto’s face had fallen as he gazed at the house windows, all flooding with light.

“It is,” Ignis affirmed.

Nothing, again. He cleared his throat, bringing a hand up to rub his temple. He spared a glance at his the clock on the dashboard—it had been ten minutes. Way too long for something as simple as picking up another sleeping mat.

Prompto broke his trance. “So you grew up with Noct, yeah?” he asked, leaning a bit over the transmission to fix his hair in the rear-view mirror. “I only met him a few weeks ago, and he’s already been the best friend I’ve ever had.”

“That’s correct,” Ignis replied. He was glad the conversation was moving elsewhere. “I was raised alongside him to be his advisor and his friend. However,” he gave a hint of a friendly smile, “you may be winning at the latter. I’ve never seen him so happy.” 

“R—really?” A blush spread across Prompto’s freckled cheeks again, and he pulled away from the mirror, beaming at Ignis. “That’s what I aim for. Thanks.”

Even so, the air between them was still charged with an awkward, jittery energy. Ignis exhaled, wishing the other two had any sense of urgency. 

“You don’t play any—”

“Are you cold—”

They had spoken and paused at the same time; Prompto cracked a chuckle, clutching his stomach, and Ignis couldn’t help but smile again.

“I’m fine, by the way,” answered Prompto, tilting his head toward him, the trail of a laugh in his words. “Noct told me you haven’t played any games? Any at all?”

“No,” Ignis admitted, staring at his finger resting on the steering wheel. “I don’t have the time for them.” 

Prompto leant over the auto-shift, giving him one of those smiles he would soon grow familiar with. “I think you should try, at least once!” He gave him a pat on the shoulder—an unpleasant one, with Ignis tensing at Prompto hitting a bit too hard.

He pulled his hand away, clearing his throat. “Y’know,” he continued, “Noct said everyone else here has King’s Knight, and it’s best played with a four person group, so….” 

Ignis had heard of it; Gladio and Noct were always begging him to play. He had brushed away every invitation before, but—there was something about this night, watching Noctis take a step out of his comfort zone and being happier for it…he gave a nod. “Perhaps I’ll look into it.”

The light from the doorway flickered with shadows. It caught both Ignis and Prompto’s eyes—and there was Gladio, Noctis trailing behind him, holding a bulk of things that surely looked like more than a single sleeping mat.

Gladio circled them, opening the car booth with one finger free, throwing everything in with a disregard of order. Noct slid in his seat, giving out a heavy groan as the leather adjusted to his weight.

Prompto chuckled at the sight of him, the unnatural interior light shining bright on his smiling face. “You okay, man?”

Another sigh. Noctis nodded his head towards Gladio who was settling in beside him, shutting his door and dimming the lights. “This dude couldn’t decide what to get.”

Ignis pulled on the handbrake, looking at him through the rear-view mirror as they once again went onto their way, turning back onto the main road. “Finding a single item was that hard?” 

Gladio had to hold back the temptation of flicking Noctis on the forehead. “Lay off on the bullying, will you?” he said, resting his palms on his short cropped hair, leaning back. “I was looking for extra controllers.”

Ignis raised his brow, cleared his throat. “You are aware it’s near ten in the evening?”

“Yeah, so?”

“And there’s a possibility we might be called in for a meeting tomorrow?”

Gladio snorted. “And?”

Noctis leaned over and put himself between them, clearly not interested in their argument. He had his phone in his hand, screen casting a bluish glow on his cheeks. “Can we, like, get something? I’m starving.”

Ignis took a deep breath. He let Gladio slip past just this once, focusing on the more important matter. “Both of you haven’t eaten?”

Prompto sheepishly shook his head. “Uh, I had some popcorn,” he scratched his cheek. “Hey, Noct, should we order something?”

“Yeah.” He held out his phone, the screen showing a restaurant Ignis never wanted to acknowledge again. “I want pizza.”

“Noctis, I’ve taken a lot of liberty with you today, but this is where I have to draw the line.” 

Ignis felt Prompto freeze next to him, clearly thinking he was being serious, but Noctis and Gladio only laughed.

“Few minutes more,” Ignis said. “I’ll see what I can do.”

They were traversing the deserted streets of Insomnia quickly now, driving through intersections shut down for the night. Raindrops started pelting the windshield, first slow and unnoticeable, and then quickening to a clashing, furious crescendo. Ignis drew a quick breath in, the cold weather and air conditioning seeping through his leather jacket. 

“Rain,” Prompto said over the storm of sound, peering through wipers over glass to gaze at the red clouds up above. “Uh, looks like it’s gonna last all night.”

“Not a problem,” grinned Noctis. “Perfect weather for lounging in with some pizza.”

Ignis continued on, turning into the residential district. He said nothing more for the rest of the drive, listening to the rest’s bouts of conversation and laughter over the deafening rain. Even if he didn’t understand any of the things they talked about, they were his friends, and he allowed himself a smile.

* * *

Ignis parked at his usual spot near the basement lobby. Drops of rain whisked themselves onto his leather blazer as he shut his door closed. Gladio threw blankets and pillows and the spare sleeping mat onto his shoulders, chattering excitedly about the coming night as Noctis, carrying the rest, followed him inside.

Prompto stood behind, bag around his shoulder. His hand was still on the handle, eyes fully trained on Ignis. “Hey,” he nodded. “You okay? You were pretty quiet.”

He looked at the prince and the shield, chattering between themselves as the sliding doors opened to the lobby. “Decent,” he said, and honestly. “Let us join them.”

They caught up with the other two at the entrance, trailing into the grandiose lobby. Their footsteps echoed on the marble floors, following Gladio’s hearty laughter.

Ignis could tell Prompto was trying not to stare at the white pillars trimmed with gold, at the massive paintings with gleaming frames, at the well put together receptionist manning the desk. When they passed them he gave them a febrile grin, managing out a decent greeting: “Good evening!” 

Noctis clapped him on the back, trying to hold back a chuckle at the display. “Sorry it’s a long walk,” he said as they neared the elevator. He tapped on the call button; luckily they didn’t have to wait. 

The trip to the thirty-fifth floor was quiet. Gladio left the lift first, bellowing, “Come on, Noct!” as he made his way down the carpeted hall. Prompto followed them, wonder evident in his bright eyes and genuine smile.

Ignis winced at their loudness, trailing far behind.

Everything brought was already on the floor once Ignis shedded his leather coat and entered Noct’s lounge. The air conditioner was on, drowning out the loud pummeling of the rain.

Prompto was pressed against the glass windows, peering through raindrops at the lights of the city outstretched underneath them. “Look at this view!” he exclaimed, surveying everything. “Whoa—you even have a balcony, Noct?”

“It’s nothing special,” he replied, rummaging through his shelves and picking out games. “Can’t even use it. It always rains around this season.”

“But still,” said Prompto, finally letting go. His palms left the ghost of warmth imprinted on the glass.

A crash sounded from the hall, and closely after, a shouted apology. Gladio was in the storage room, digging everything out of their places.

Ignis sighed, watching the mess these three were making unfold all around him. It was not the night he imagined it would be an hour ago. He pressed a hand to his forehead, trying to will some stability into this day.

The broth he had made still laid untouched, too cold to be of use anymore. Reluctantly, he cleared the table. A muffled clang rang out as he stacked the bowls and cutlery into the sink.

Prompto was now sat on the couch, a thick fleece blanket around his shoulders. His head perked up at the noise. Their eyes met, and he gave Ignis an exuberant wave. “Should I order the pizza?” he asked as he unpocketed his phone.

“It’s too late for that,” Ignis said, grabbing his apron off the hook. “I’ll make something.”

Prompto blinked. “You can cook?”

“Indeed.” Ignis opened an overhead cupboard, taking hold of a can with a familiar grace. He was in his element; he already felt himself calming. “It’s a hobby of mine.”

“He’s really good,” said Noctis, dropping a stack of multiplayer games on the coffee table and joining Prompto on the couch. “Just name any dish and I bet he can whip it up.”

“He can cook anything? _And_ drive?” He was astonished—he truly was. His mouth was agape watching Ignis flitter about in the small kitchen, preheating the oven and plucking several spices from the fridge. “Woah, dude.”

The back of Ignis’s neck prickled with a marginal hint of bashfulness. Gladio and Noctis had watched all of his fumbles when he first picked up cooking; they had seen his failures firsthand, and with heavy practice, his increased success over the years. They never batted an eye to the level of skill he now possessed.

Prompto, Ignis realised, would be the first person outside of them he would be serving a dish to. He paused, the unopened can of tomato sauce cold in his hand, thinking that perhaps he should make something that would exceed their expectations—

“Here,” Gladio said, breaking his selfish daze. He dumped an armful of sleeping mats onto the growing pile in the middle of the room. “It was buried under tons of stuff. Not surprising, the last time we did this was, what? Eight months ago?”

Noct nodded—well, nodded as much he could while resting his chin in his palm. “Around that time, yeah.”

Gladio set all the spare controllers he found onto the coffee table, plastic banging uncomfortably on the glass top. “Here, Blondie, you pick.” He pushed everything on it towards him and eased himself on the side of the sofa adjacent. 

Prompto stared at the intimidating stack of games. “What?”

“It’s tradition for the loser to pick the game and everything, for an advantage,” Noct nudged him. “Well—tradition for the newcomer, too.”

After combing through all his choices for a good minute, he settled on a colourful racing game and picked up the closest compatible controller. “Y’know,” Prompto grinned, cracking his knuckles, “I don’t need an advantage.”

They got rowdy after the first match. From what Ignis took, Prompto was good—maybe better than both of them combined. Noctis yelled at every turn he did, elbowing him whenever he threw a weapon out to deter him—despite it being the _point_ of the game. Gladio made fun of them both until he overtook them and became the new subject to Prompto’s attacks.

Ignis couldn’t help but stop in front of the counter and watch them. Noctis looked…unstrained. And even though Ignis clearly showed his disdain to this night, he knew the thing that held him back from interfering was Noctis’s happiness. A small smile settled upon his lips seeing him squabble with his new friend, comparing him to the Noctis who stood alone and brooding at the same spot weeks ago. 

Ignis sprinkled flour on the counter, setting the spare dough he had in Noct’s fridge in the centre. And with a big _clack_ , he flattened it with a rolling pin, molding it into a suitable crust.

Gladio, who had already given up on winning this round, threw his head back on a pillow. “Making something for the four of us, Iggy?”

Experience had taught him there was no denying Gladio what he wanted, especially food-wise. He opened the fridge again, internally changing the recipe to four. “Seems like it.”

Prompto glanced back, raising a hand, still perfectly driving through a blind corner on screen without full attention or control. “Thanks, Ignis—!”

Noctis used this moment of distraction to his full advantage—he knocked the controller from Prompto’s hand, flying to the other side of the room.

“What the—hey! You cheat!” By the time he took hold of it again, both Gladio and Noctis had already passed him, nearing the finish line. He let out an anguished groan when Noctis took first place from him, dropping his controller in defeat and glancing at the kitchen for help. “Ignis!” he cried aloud, much like a child would for a parent. “Noct’s a cheater!”

“Calm down!” Ignis said, the shout hushed. “This is an apartment complex.”

“He’s still a—”

“Take a break from playing,” he interrupted. “Now,” he added when Noctis wrinkled his nose. “Go change out of your uniforms—and out of that soddy tracksuit, Gladio.”

He stared them down until they all unenthusiastically stood. Gladio set the game on pause as two went their separate ways—Noctis to his bedroom after showing Prompto to the bathroom.

But—Gladio. He was leaning over the kitchen counter, his chin in his palm. Ignis looked at him for an answer, but he simply waved the fierce gaze away. “You doing good, Iggy?” he asked.

He didn’t know what to tell him. Today, it seemed, he gained another child to look after. “As good as I could on such an exhausting day,” he said, kneading the dough together.

With complete disregard for his answer, Gladio reached over and gave him a half-hug. “Iggy, come on,” he said, jostling his shoulders. Ignis elbowed him and his horrible tracksuit away with scorn. Gladio just laughed. “Let go for a bit. Have some fun. It’ll do you good, eh?” He plucked a thick slice of cheese set aside, crunching a bite out of it.

“If you stopped eating all of my ingredients I would be able to finish much faster—”

He was only met with a wide grin as Gladio squeezed him again. “I told you, just relax.” And he let his shoulders go, grabbed a change of clothes from the piled mess of stuff, and headed to the bathroom. 

Ignis allowed himself a sigh, the room now feeling peaceful. Only him and the heavy rain.

But it was not long until the first of them returned. Prompto gave him a small wave in greeting as he padded into the living room. He was wearing pajamas too loose—his grey pants spilled over his ankles and a thin yellow sweater with a chocobo print hung low from his shoulders. The old wristband peeked out from under his sleeve, Ignis noticed.

He was fiddling with the hem of it as he edged near the counter, watching Ignis stir spices into a sauce mixture for their pizza. “That looks amazing,” he said, leaning a bit too close for comfort.

Ignis took a spoonful the mix and poured it back in, testing the consistency. “It’s nearly done.”

“Do you need, um, help?” asked Prompto, an elbow leant over the counter, eyes darting at all the cupboards. “Like, setting up the table and stuff? Where do you keep the forks and spoons?”

Something like that had never crossed Ignis’s mind before—having a helping hand. “It’s…fine,” he replied a bit too monotone, slightly stunned. “I can handle it.”

“Ah—okay, sorry,” Prompto muttered, backing away. 

Perhaps it was the late night, perhaps it was the tiredness getting to him, but he felt regret at his mistakenly harsh tone. “Do you—want something to drink?” he quickly asked, thoughts absconded. It was a desperate attempt to diffuse tension.

“I’m fine,” Prompto said, voice subdued. He picked up his controller he had left on the floor, playing with the analog stick. “Thanks for asking.”

The sound of the rain filled the silence between them, being their conversation. Ignis allowed himself glances towards Prompto as he spread the sauce across the flattened dough; he only saw him holding his phone way too close to his face each time, not once looking up.

Fortunately, it was not long until Noctis returned dressed in black cotton, joining Prompto on the wooden floor. Their game was soon unpaused—with no regards to Gladio’s character—and the awkward conversation between Ignis and Prompto faded only to memory. Shouts of struggle and anger from them soon emerged as Ignis scattered grated cheese and salami down, the pizza finally starting to look like one.

Gladio finally returned in a sleeveless shirt when Ignis shut the oven, short hair dripping wet and a towel laid over his shoulders. The unfinished ink of a wing rippled over his muscled arm as he dried his hair off, faint red skin shining in the fluorescent light.

Prompto’s eyes nearly bulged out of its sockets, scrambling to pause the game. “You have a tattoo?!” 

“For his family legacy, remember?” Noct nudged him. “I told you before.”

“Dude. I’ve always wanted one for myself.” His gaze seemed permanently fixated. “Does it hurt? How much does it cost?”

Ignis only listened on to their conversation about what designs he was interested in, settling himself on Noct’s sofa after setting the table up, can of Ebony in his hand. Midway, he saw Gladio meet Noct’s gaze. There was fiery determination in both their eyes, Ignis noticed, no doubt from having made a pact between them to work together to tear Prompto into shreds.

The game was soon unpaused and after an argument about what map to choose, they started again. But Prompto was now faltering, drifting too far and constantly smashing against the walls of the track; he ended up in fifth place, even CPUs having beat him.

He set his controller aside, curling up in the pile of pillows and blankets, wrapping the fleece around him to combat Noct’s preference of a cold room. “I’m quitting,” Prompto whined, stretching out the syllables. “This is _so_ unfair.”

“Can’t handle the fact that that was just beginner’s luck, huh?” Noctis booed him. “Want a rematch?”

Prompto waved him away. “It’s only because I’m starving! Maybe after dinner,” he crossed his arms.

“Fifteen more minutes,” Ignis answered the unspoken question. He raised his can of coffee, smirking at them. “A lot of time to fit multiple rematches.”

“Hey!” Prompto aimed an exaggerated glare at him, puffing his chest out. The amount of blankets he had wrapped around himself only ended up making the gesture less threatening than it should. “Gladio, Noct and his nerd are ganging up on me!”

Gladio lifted his controller and a spare one off the table, chucking it onto Ignis’s lap. “Teams of two? Prom and I, Noct and the nerd?”

“Ew, no,” Noct shook his head. “Ignis is gonna slow me down. I can beat you all on my own.” 

“How harsh.” Ignis picked up the controller, a white and red one patterned with moogles—clearly Iris’s—and placed it back to where it was. “No need to worry, although. You’re all fully aware I don’t participate in such things.”

Prompto looked at him, frowning. “Not even one round, Ignis?”

“I’ll pass.”

But Prompto wouldn’t look away. There was something— _something_ in his gaze that Ignis recognised. Perhaps he were imagining it, but…he thought back to that day during spring, to that short-lived conversation about loneliness. 

Perhaps Prompto had never forgotten about it. 

“Last chance,” he scooted over, the polished wooden floor squeaking as he dragged his knees. He held out the moogle covered controller to him, trying to entice him. “You gotta try, at least once!”

He glanced at the controller, then to his friends. Noctis and Gladio were watching them both intensely, seeing if this new presence could change his mind. And Prompto and the determined expression he wore—Ignis knew he wouldn’t back away.

He took a deep breath. It was a night of firsts, after all. 

“Just once,” he reluctantly agreed, setting his coffee down. Yet, they all knew it was a lie.

He stalled on characterisation, his friends all recommending a monster who unfortunately shared his nickname. But after fumbling with getting used to the controls, he ended up choosing a random selection for both his character and his vehicle, a princess and some type of motorcycle.

The first race was around a track of Noct’s choosing. It was befuddling and twisted and half underwater, and Ignis stumbled countlessly—falling off the road, driving the wrong way, not knowing how to drift. He kept accidentally looking at screens that weren’t his, lifting his finger off the button for acceleration, hands cramping as he held his controller too tight; but by the third race he eased his grip, finally getting the hang of it by mimicking the others. He ended up in seventh place.

His friends took pity on him, choosing the easiest track for the next round: a simple loop to drive around seven times. 

It was a mistake.

He got a boost in speed from a method he picked up by watching Prompto’s fingers and zoomed past them all and the other racers, quickly taking first place. 

“What the hell, Ignis,” Noct side-glanced at him as he tried to hit him with an item—and missed, hitting a wall instead. “What the _hell?_ ”

He allowed himself a smile, tilting his arms as he turned around the loop. One lap done. “Quick learner.”

“Regretting rejecting my team offer, huh?” Gladio laughed as Noctis drifted too soon and collided with Prompto, knocking them both too far off the track—the laugh faded when Noctis whirled into him, stopping his ascent of speed.

Ignis continued on, zooming past them with not a care. Two laps done. 

“I think he’s, like, possessed or something,” murmured Prompto. He got back on track, gaining speed. “Or the moogles are giving him their blessing.”

Ignis—who was a full lap ahead of him—hit him squarely with an item that didn’t even have automatic aim. Prompto bit back a scream.

“Definitely moogles,” Noctis agreed. 

He finished another lap, and another, music quickening with every loop.

Gladio’s brows were furrowed, controller clicking as he tried his hardest to move on from fourth place. “You sure he isn’t practising this when you’re asleep, Noct?”

The corner of Ignis’s lips lifted with a smirk. “Perhaps it’s simply because I’m the only one with a license?” 

“Shut up,” Noctis elbowed him; it didn’t do anything to deter him. “I’m gonna beat you.” 

But Ignis closed the loop again and again, his place not once unbeaten. There was a stumble when he was hit with an unavoidable weapon—a shell, he now realised it was—but he quickly regained speed before anyone could overpass him, zooming past the last turn of this lap. 

The music was deeper and louder now, and Ignis leaned forward, completely in focus. Beside him, both Noctis and Prompto were gritting their teeth, trying to close the gaps between them and him. Luck, at last, finally started siding with them; Noctis drifted into third place at the first corner, picking up a shell with automatic aim for the next placed opponent.

A single, quick glance to Prompto solidified a plan. He let go of his controller and let Noctis take his second spot, watching him let it loose on his advisor.

But Ignis—he was already turning the last corner. The tell-tale sound of a whirling shell grew louder and louder. The finish line was in sight, closer and closer, only a few agonising seconds away from the black and white line—

And—he took first place. The shell hit a moment after, but his princess character continued on, erupting in a cheer as confetti danced across his section of the split screen. He set the moogles down on the coffee table as he stood up, smoothing his trousers. “I don’t see what all the fuss is about.”

Noctis tossed his controller to his side, giving up finishing the race entirely. “I want a rematch,” he crossed his arms. “That was just luck.”

“Forgot about your request?” Ignis flashed him just a hint of a smirk. “Perhaps after dinner.”

He headed to the kitchen, taking no care of their glares and the murmured conversation between them that was _very_ clearly jealousy. Glasses fogging up as he pried open the oven, steam rising to his face as he sprinkled parmesan and rolled a circle cutter over their pizza, Ignis carefully set two servings each on four plates. A perfect division, no leftovers.

Prompto was the first to push himself off the ground, practically zooming to the table as Ignis set the plates in place. “Which one’s mine?”

“Any you see fit.”

He took the seat closest to the counter—Ignis’s usual place—and downed his entire glass of water. Ignis wasn’t surprised.

As he refilled it, Gladio slid in next to Prompto and Noctis across him, chairs creaking as it adjusted to them. They both watched him slowly cut into the cheese, eyes as wide as saucers. “Dude,” he said, hands slightly trembling as he lifted his fork towards his mouth. “This might be the best looking pizza I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“Well, Iggy’s _really good_ at stuff for some reason,” Noct said, giving Ignis the side-eye as he sat down next to him. “C’mon,” he nudged Prompto underneath with his toe. “Try it.”

One second of uncertainty passed, and then, he just took it in.

“Thoughts?” asked Ignis. 

“Hot—!” Prompto tossed it around on his tongue, fumbling for his glass of water. “It’s—hot!” He downed his entire drink, choking and spluttering over Noct and Gladio’s laughter.

“Well, you _did_ watch me take it out the oven moments ago,” Ignis said, a closed hand over his lips to hide his entertained expression. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

After a few hastily breaths and drops of water dripping down to his chocobo shirt, Prompto calmed, wiping a sleeve over his chin. “I hate you guys,” he said, “but that was insanely good, minus the burning my tongue off part.”

And even though they laughed at him, Noctis and Gladio didn’t long wait for it to cool. Ignis was cutting the last piece of his first slice when the rest had emptied their plates, sipping their glasses of water. Lethargy had rested upon all of them, evident in the lack of conversation. They laid sluggish on their chairs, Noct nearly falling asleep.

Ignis expected such. He knew this would happen; his friends were always like this. And Prompto, despite the extra bout of energy he seemed to have compared to them, fit in right well.

“Iggy,” called out Prompto—his nickname. Ignis now knew that their earlier confusion laid forgotten, forgiven. “That was amazing,” he said, resting his head on the back of the chair. “You made those pastries too, right? The ones Noct brings to school everyday?”

“I do,” Ignis said. “And now I realise why he’s been asking for more even if not fully satisfied with the taste.”

There was no more conversation, only the rain still going on. He finished his dinner, and rose up.

He piled the dishes onto each other with utensils on top, the clink of ceramic a bit too loud in the cold, cozy room. Set them in the sink. And moved to pick up the glasses–but found them being placed the counter next to him, carried by a yellow, too loose sleeve. 

“No need to thank me,” Prompto winked at him. “Noct,” he leaned over the counter, “c’mon, show me where the spare toothbrushes are.”

Noct’s head was on the table, chin across his crossed arms. His eyes were still closed. “I wanted to go back to the game.” 

“It’s midnight,” Ignis said, pushing his sleeves up. “There’s always tomorrow.”

Reluctantly, his friends wandered out the room one by one, getting ready for bed. By the time he set the dishes aside to dry, they’d returned, turning off the television and practically diving head first into the pile of mess they made.

He left them for Noct’s bedroom first, taking out a set of clothes he left in his closet: a dark sweater and some sweatpants. He folded his old clothes into the laundry basket, also gathering up some of the mess Noctis was starting to make.

Passing the rest who were wrangling the mound of pillows and blankets, Ignis headed to the bathroom next, switching on the warm, ambient light. There were four toothbrushes in the mug, one brand new. He took hold of his purple one, and looked at himself in the mirror.

His hair—he realised his hair had been undone the entire time. Ruffled, ends sticking out, not unlike a drenched spin mop resting upon his head.

And…for some reason, he did not care. About the image of sophistication he now needed to hold, as he grew older. Not around them, not around his friends. 

When he came back the lights were already off, and his friends were already settled in under layers and layers to beat the air conditioning and the cold night, talking about pointless things. In the dim moonlight, he fumbled around for the opening of his sleeping mat, beside Noct and the wide window.

“I’m just telling you,” Noctis was saying, “if they really wanted to get the pirates’ treasure, they wouldn’t have sacrificed one of their numbers.”

“That’s stupid!” Prompto shook his head, crossing his arms. “Then he wouldn’t have the chance to go assassinate the captain!”

Ignis’s eyes darted between the two of them. “What’s this about?”

“The stupid movie we saw,” Prompto shrugged. “It was about dumb fish.”

Noct aimed a glare at him. “Hey—”

“They’ve been arguing about it for the past five minutes,” running his hands over his face, Gladio groaned between them. “Help me, Iggy.”

He didn’t need to do anything; simply the thought that he was going to do _something_ shut them up. Prompto tucked himself deep under his blankets, just his eyes and blond hair peeking out.

“Don’t suffocate yourself,” Ignis said, finally settling in. He folded his glasses, setting them above his head.

Gradually, Prompto lowered the covers, pulling them atop his chin. Even with the weather and Noct’s insistence to freeze everything in the room, he felt warm; perhaps from the fear, the adrenaline, or both and more. “This night has been the best night of my life,” he whispered, mostly to himself. He raised a hand to the ceiling, staring at it. “I feel like I’m in a five star hotel right now.”

“Rooming with three nuisances?” chuckled Gladio. “No beds available?”

“Well, yeah, that’s part of the fun.” He lowered his hand, tucking it under the covers. “What’s the deal with the sleeping mats anyway?” 

“This dude loves it,” Noct patted Gladio’s chest, the thud soft and dull because of the insulated fabric. “Helps him bring out his _camping fantasy._ ”

He laughed again, but subdued this time, tiredness creeping in. “Can’t even refute that, because it’s true.”

The heavy rain let out to a light pitter as time went on, the chatter slowly dying down. Fatigue caught up to Noctis first, Gladio soon after. Prompto looked right at the darkened ceiling, letting the low hum of the air conditioner engulf his thoughts. There was still a prickle in his fingers and a twitch in his jaw, still feeling very jittery from the new setting, despite the confidence he willed himself to emit.

But with a great inhale, he let it go, and the exhaustion from the constant socialisation caught up soon after. He fell asleep with a small smile.

Ignis was the last to drift off. He stared at the dim shine of the waning crescent moon through windows still splattered with water droplets, thinking.

There was something about the four of them spread apart in Noct’s darkened living room, twinkling lights of faint stars and buildings adjacent reflecting on their faces. Something about the wafting hint of pepperoni, something about their slow, in-sync breathing. 

Despite the all rules he probably broke, despite everything—Noctis’s genuine smile was well worth whatever punishment awaited from the Citadel. He closed his eyes, blocking the moonlight out. But it never left his side— _their_ sides.

It felt like they were complete.

* * *

“I knew who you were the moment I bumped into you, Iggy.” Prompto’s head was down, staring at his hands clasped together in front of him, elbows on his knees. The glow of their dying campfire bathed him in orange light, his golden hair glinting the way Ignis always loved. “And…I never forgot.” He paused, taking a breath. “It’s just…I don’t think anyone asked me that outside of obligation before.”

His words were barely audible over the cold midnight winds. He stared at his drained mug set aside, the ambient sounds of the night surrounding them.

“No one’s never asked for your name?” Noctis was resting his tilted head on his palm, leant back in his chair. He had listened intently through Prompto’s tale, asking questions and giving words of encouragement, laughing at their stumbles and inputting his own perspective whenever needed. “That’s kinda weird.”

“Well, not outside of you and Ignis,” Prompto breathed. His voice was low over the crackle of the fire. “So…thanks for that.”

“Hey, forgetting someone?” Gladio wrapped an arm around him, giving him a nudge. Prompto near choked from the suddenness. “Remember?” he asked. “In the car that day. A bit late compared to them, though. But the thought still counts, yeah?” He grinned, a laugh bubbling from his lips. “I’m glad you’re my friend.”

“Mm,” Noctis hummed in agreement, amused by watching them struggle about. “Don’t know where I’d be now if you’d never approached me.”

Prompto’s heart tugged. He smiled, a true one, crinkling his eyes. “Same here.”

Gladio outstretched his other arm, all grins. “Com’ere, Noct!” And then he was pulled out of his chair and into their group hug, squished in between their cheeks. Their laugher warmed the back of his neck, and he couldn’t help but join in.

“Iggy,” Prompto waved. “Come on!”

With a soft, happy sigh and a deft straighten of his glasses, he nestled his arms around his friends. Loose, but firm—yet it was for naught when Gladio snorted and tightened his arms around them all, pushing them way too close.

A cheek met one of Ignis’s lenses, greasing it up. “Prompto, my glasses—”

Gladio laughed. “Are you guys gonna start making out—”

“You guys smell _so_ bad.” Noctis choked, trying to elbow them all away. “Let me go.”

Even so, once they all separated and he put distance between him and Prompto’s pits, there was still a small smile on his face. And there was silence—warm and amiable and relaxed over the fire, the type that could only be shared with close friends.

“We should rest up,” Ignis then said, wiping his glasses clean. “It is only a matter of time until we reach Altissia.”

Ten minutes later, they were sprawled against the padded mat floor of their tent in pajamas. The sleeping mats laid unpacked against the walls, all of them too tired to pull them open.

Prompto had his hands clasped under his head, staring up at the metal poles holding their tent together, slightly glinting from the dying campfire through the slit in the tent flap. Even though his muscles were sore and ached, his mind felt fully alert with something—something left unsaid.

He sat up, ignoring the aches in his shoulders, his fleece blanket pooling around his waist, and nudged Noctis’s shoulder. “You still up?”

“Uh-huh,” Noctis whispered. “Tired…but can’t fall asleep.”

“It’s most likely the anticipation of your wedding,” Ignis said, his voice low and monotone in weariness. He was lying on his back, hair down, hands across his chest.

Gladio set his book face down, slipping off his reading glasses. “Everyone too, huh?”

“Are you reading in the _dark?_ ”

“Hey,” he met Ignis’s glare. “Might as well do something to pass the time.”

Ignis dared not say anything more, exhaling deep, closing his eyes.

There was more silence between them, only their breathing and the occasional winds and faraway outcries from wildlife. It only drove home how much Prompto loved them, his friends, and how comfortable he felt around them; something he never thought he’d ever experience.

“Hey,” Prompto broke the quiet, voice low and soft. There was a lump in his throat—the words he never got to say. “Noct?”

Noctis pried an eye open. “Yeah?”

“Are you…thinking about Lady Lunafreya?”

The answer was low, barely audible, but honest. “Uh-huh.”

“We’re really close,” Gladio said. “Could even be tomorrow, if we get the Regalia back.”

Prompto laid back down, his blanket rustling as he did. “Y’know, if it weren’t for…,” he trailed off, biting his lip. He wanted to tell him, how she had a part in this, how she was the one made their fates intertwine and made them friends—but his voice wouldn’t work. Not yet. He cleared his throat. “It’s nothing.” He shook his head, looking at his palms in the darkness.

Noct’s eyes darted over to him. “Something bothering you?”

“I just—I really do hope I get to meet her,” he balled his hand into a fist at his side. And he let it go, with his tightened breath. “I…want to show her all these pictures. Maybe—even everything in that box, too.”

There was a pause before the reply came, soft and subdued and full of emotion. “I do, too.”

It was Noctis who fell first. Gladio followed soon after, breathing muted and even. Prompto only listened, hands together over his stomach, deep in thought.

Here, all laid out in close proximity, he couldn’t help but think back on that night five years ago. How his heart was nearly beating out of his chest at every glance from the prince’s retainers. How he was afraid Ignis would refuse and leave him on the theater’s curb, afraid Gladio would’ve perceived him as an annoying nuisance. How, despite his fear, he braved through it and became a better person for it, going on an adventure with close friends he never could’ve dreamed of.

His cheeks warmed with affection. He rolled over to his boyfriend, wrapping his arms around his chest, pressing a kiss on the back of his neck.

“Rest,” Ignis whispered to him. “You need it.”

“Yeah, I know.” He rubbed Ignis’s forearms with his thumb, rubbed his nose in his hair, breathed in his scent. He couldn’t pinpoint what hints it held, but it was something so uniquely Ignis, and he had grown to love it as he loved him. “Hey,” he said after a moment, voice soft and hovering over his ear. “Ignis?”

His eyebrows raised, but he didn’t open his eyes. “Mm?”

“I love you.”

Prompto could see a smile grace his face even in the absence of all light. Ignis put a hand over his. “I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so, so much for reading this and all the support. it means so much to me and keeps me going! <3  
> ao3 timed out eleven times while trying to post this


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